Twilight for Anonymous
by regertz
Summary: Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…
1. Chapter 1

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, .com or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

London… 1599…

"Now…" shrewd look…From a dark-haired man who, leaning back on his stool, eyes his visitor…A large, rather buxom, ravens'-haired beauty…A beauty not only well-known to him, but desperately desired…

To the point of both the most fiendish evil and the most bitter jealousy…

"…I don't say I know who might be layin' claim to Will's work, lass…But…"

"Ben…You'll be tellin' me or you'll be pickin' splinters from that cup out of yer teeth…" the addressed woman notes, coldly…Advancing…

Hmmn…The man eyes his approaching foe…Brown eyes with that odd hint of green, flashing…Short, sharp hewn to a fine point, stake clenched in capable right hand…

And knowing as I do just how capable she might well be of doing that…

"Well…For the sake of me two dearest friends in this world of England…" Ben begins…

"Jonson…Cut to the quick of it…Or I'll be breakin' that money-makin' hand of yours faster than my Will could say 'Romeo, oh wherefore…'"

Ouch…Witch…She would rub it in about "her" Will's latest blockbuster…

Well, a silly romance always gets the groundlings blubbering…And throw in a couple of foolishly open-hearted, teenaged lovers…

"Now dearest Annie…" he eyes his dearly desired, the spouse of his great foe…

"…As your Will's closet friend…And an artist of the first rank…"

"'Oh…'" she begins, seizing his hand… "… 'Romeo'…"

Arggh… "DeVere…Edward DeVere…Anne, I and the world need that hand, girl…"

She releases, arch look…Followed by puzzled one…

"Oxford?...That twit?...The toff would-be poet who hired Will to write a sonnet for him?..."

"So they say…But hey, last week 'they' were saying it was Marlowe doing all of Will's writing…" Jonson notes…

"Ay…They did…" So thank God for the English Secret Service, its efficiently brutal chief, Walsingham, and our ruthless Queen eliminatin' that little problem…

No offense, Chris, but tis' a tough business…

"But…DeVere…?" she frowns… "I thought, perhaps Essex…Or one of the others in his circle…Everyone knows this fellow's a silly..."

"Not since he read that sonnet at Court…And I gather your Will kept his word not to say a word…"

"One…And one decidedly second-rate poem among his catalog of hits…Let out to that young dolt and some are ready to believe…"

"Eh…Last month, I told some fool in a tavern, as a joke whilst I was…A bit incapacitated, that it was the Queen herself writing my plays...And for the rest of that month…"

"I remember…Well, what you deserved then, knowin' they'd said the same last year about Will…"

"So, where is the lad?...Not willin' to stand for his work, he sends you here to take up for him?…"

"We discussed it…"

Cut to shot of William Shakespeare, bound and gagged in his London rooms…

"…But no way I'm lettin' him put himself at risk, confrontin' this sort of thing…He's the source of the family wealth, Ben…Can't have him in prison or worse for upsettin' some courtier with friends, who might not even be the right man…"

Besides…A bound and trussed Will Shakespeare is a faithful Will Shakespeare…For a day or two at least…

Hmmn…

"Anne…" Hopeful tone… "If that truly be the only reason…"

"Pish off, you…" frown… "Ben Jonson…You know I love Will alone…"

"Annie…After all we've meant to each other?..."

"I'll be breakin' that hand now…"

"Anne…Fine, fine…" Jonson glares but pulls back hand…

Perhaps after she met that popinjay when she did tell me to never darken her doorframe again there was a hidden meaning there after all…

Well…Ben Jonson shall yet have his vengeance…Even if tis to be served both cold and rather late…300 years or so from now, in fact, if that damned pretty piece of a "justice demon", that sweet, if rather deadly, Anya comes through true…What was it now…He's to be reborn as the world's worst poet…And dear Anne cursed to doom him to unendin' suffering…

Nice…He smiled inwardly…

"What?..." Anne eyed his beaming, contented face…

Oops…That was meant to stay inwardly…

"Uh…Just thinking on how best to punish that worthless snot of an aristocrat…For my good friend's sake…" Ben, innocently…

Right…I believe that…Anne frowned…

After all, someone had to have smuggled Oxford a copy of Will's other works for him to be claiming authorship so boldly…

Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, stepson of Her Royal Majesty's beloved Robert Dudley, royal (currently ex-) favorite, pacing room…Pausing to eye his majestic self in a long mirror, feeling moustache acquired during his recent campaign…The only badge of honor in the sorry affair…Carefully and proudly…Pulling at stuck fold of sleeve, then smoothing…

My God, I'm beautiful…He turns and frowns at his guest, reclining on a long chair…

"Edward?...Are you sure this work will do the job?..."

Languid stare, shrug, off-hand wave of languid hand emerging from ruffled sleeve…

"My dear Robert…" Edward DeVere, taken by all to be the current heir to the Earldom of Oxford, rather than the sole and immortal holder of said title that he was in truth…Smiles gently…

Poor spoiled baby…Unable to see the wolves at your heels and the fiend traitor in your bosom…

"…Our friend Shakespeare's 'Richard II' will do for the occasion…An anointed king, foolish and rather disliked but hardly a brute tyrant, overthrown and deposed…It's just what we want to convince our people the old Queen can be shaken…"

"Yes…" Essex paces further… "Yes…But of course, shaken…I want her just shaken, you know…Forced to see that I am her only true protector and worthy advisor…"

"Of course…" Edward nods…

"Even if my very life weighs in the balance I should never violate my oath…"

Uh-huh…Somehow I wouldn't place great bets on ole Eliza's life if we should succeed…But, she'll probably offer him some equally worthless promises of safely and forgiveness, if it comes to that…

Either way blood will follow…To my benefit, both practically and of the spirit…

Ah, politics…I love it so…

"But when does the fellow come to receive our charge?...And the alterations we considered to add to the topicality of the play?"

"Shortly, Robert…Shortly…After all, the man is a hit playwrite…His time is valuable and his schedule, generally impossible…But for those good friends of ample coin and influence in the realm…"

"Are we, Essex and Oxford, two peerless high nobles of this isle, to await the pleasure of some nobody playwrite?..." Essex fumes…

"The crowds we hope to influence to our side wouldn't say so…" DeVere notes…

"Bah…You place too much faith in the crowd, Edward…It is a fickle mistress and will bite…Hard…When annoyed or perceiving itself spurned…"

Someone will, in any case…Oxford inwardly smiles…Brushing a loose hair down…


	2. Chapter 2

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, http:/www.buffyrebecca.com or direct to story at http:/www./tfa.html...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

London…

City lodgings of a certain famed playwright…Currently indisposed…

Anne Shakespeare, striding rather fiercely…Stake in hand…As Ben Jonson, having followed her at her "request" watches her from a stool…Occasionally eyeing the currently indisposed William, still bound and trussed in chair…

"It's the cause…It is the cause…Name it not, will I, bein' a good wife and mother…" she pauses, eyeing William in his chair…

Hmmn…He eyes her back…

You know, that rather makes for a nice scene there, with the pacing and touch of a frenzied…

"…Nor in front of company…" she frowns at Jonson…

Hey…You brought me here, lass…

"…If I ever thought…" she glares at Will… "Any of them tales were true…About those women…"

Lord…Burbage's been shooting his mouth off again…Will sighs inwardly…

Tries soulfully innocently look…Annie…

"Anyway…" she nervously waves… "We've more to concern with here…How could you be lettin' some twit noble be stealin' your work and passin' it as his own, Will?..."

Think of the family in any case…Our girls…Little Hamnet…The potential loss of all their future hopes…

"Will?...A man like Oxford?...You'd let him lay claim to your work?..." she fumes…

Hmmn?...He tries exaggerated puzzled stare…

Oxford?...Steal…?

"Everyone in Strafford's heard tell of the claims…It's humiliatin', Will…Why else…Apart from missin' ye (and the natural desire to be sure me London-based spouse is really spendin' 24/7 on nothing but the family business during the theatrical season)…Would I be spendin' the dear moneys for such a trip…Leavin' our girls with me parents…Abandoning the Hellmouth of Strat…"

Ummn…She pauses, blinking at the puzzled Jonson…

"…abandoning them to the hell of Strafford, alone…" she lamely and hastily corrects… "Unless it was so dire for the family cause…What were ye thinkin', William?..."

Well?...She eyes him…

Oh, right…Pulling cloth from mouth…

"Sorry…But what be ye thinkin' Will?...What moneys could he offer so worth giving away yer birthright…?"

And if ye have a figure, lets have it…With breakdown of all costs to be met, includin' Hamnet's tuition at Cambridge…She eyes him with frown…

"Anne…" William gasped, a bit out of breath… "I've not…"

"No?..." she eyes him…Beaming look… "Not betrayed me with the easy-virtued ladies of London and yer own foul stage?...Or not sold our future?...Or…(even better)…Both?…"

Hmmn…Well…Definitely not #2 but as to #1?...

Still, no need to get bogged down in detail…

"Uh, no…Dear…" he replies…

Which said, could naturally cover either/or…

She eyes him squarely… "Truly?..."

"I've never sold Oxford anything but that little sonnet…"

Frown…Boy, you know damned well that wasn't the question I had in mind…

Still, the practical must take precedence here…

"Right then…I've need to speak a word in the ear of one Edward Dever then…"

"DeVere…" Jonson, helpfully…

"Whatever…"

"Ben?..." Shakespeare looks over… "Why the devil are you here?..."

"Why who else would dear Anne turn to in the circumstance?..." Jonson, snidely… "You being occupied…"

Will eyeing a now somewhat-tables-turned Anne…She, a sheepish expression…Ummn…

"Man does know about me other profession, Will…" she tries…

"Exactly…" Ben, smugly…

"No reason to bring him along to see me trussed like a goose…Or a patient for the stone cut…" Will, frowning…

"He'll say naught…If he knows what's best for him…" Anne, grim nod…

"Already forgotten, friends…" Ben, spreading hands, benevolent smile…

"But as to Oxford…I don't think Anne should be charging in to threaten him…He's a powerful man with connections at Court…"

"Connections of dubious worth now…" Will notes…

"Queen still loves Essex like the idiot son she (probably) never had with Dudley…" Jonson shakes head… "She'll not tolerate his friends abused by the ordinary folk…However extra-ordinary they may be…" he adds hastily to Anne's glare…

"What?..." Anne stares… "Is he in trouble with the Court now as well?..."

Just what we need…The family business shut down because some fool drags our work into his mud…

"They say…And 'they' are pretty well placed to know…" Will notes… "That he and Essex are up to no good…Trying to gain sole access to the Queen, possibly even more…"

"More?...How much more…?"  
>Jonson portrays chopping of head with head… "That much more, if they're caught…"<p>

"Holy Jesus…" Anne crosses herself… "Will, what have you got us mixed up in?..."

"Me…?" Shakespeare blinks…

Say could you?...He holds up bound hands…Really can't express the emotion without the hands…

She frowns, but undoes rope…

"As I say…I've done nothing of the sort…Sweetheart, you know I'm not political, excepting of course…"

"Will!..." Anne, hastily…

Since they know I know about the Undead killin' thing and all that, I'd guess it's the closet Catholicism she's in a dither about…Jonson thinks, watching contentedly…

All grist to me mill, that's for sure…

"…Well, I'm not political…I've done nothing for or with Oxford to give cause for the Court to be angry with me…No more have I done for you, girl…" solemnly innocent look…

"I'm sure I'm wantin' to believe that, William Shakespeare…" she begins…

A sharp knock at the door to the rooms catching her in mid-chastisement…

Wardrobe room of the Chamberlain's Men at the Globe Theater, Southwark district of London…

"Tis fine stiching…Here…" toss of coin, caught in mid-air…

Quick bite of said coin…Ah, the real thing…Warm smile…

"Thanks for your custom, Master Hemings…" hasty pocketing of coin…

"Miss Jenkins…" Hemings, bow with flourish suiting a lead actor of the company…

Anya Jenkins, seamstress to the company, a position secured by both her talent and her friendship with Anne Shakespeare, nodding in return…

"Wilt it be Sir John for you this next time?..." she asked…Hemings shrugging…

"Lord knows lass…But our Will is at work on something…Hope it's more of Falstaff…That fat knight is a sure box office draw…Still, with Master Shakespeare, who knows…He's been getting' temperamental of late…Wantin' to do more in the line of Art I hear…"

"I'd thought he'd done such…" she blinked… "That last one with the Italian kids was simply beautiful…"

"One might've hoped the lad would've purged such sentiments from his system with that…" Hemings sighed… "He's a practical man generally, is our Will, but the craze for his stuff may be going to his head…He talks till one might be tempted to go drown oneself in a butt of wine about the need to 'go further'…Further, he says…As if we've put all thought of profit and security to rest and have sacks of gold and silver in the cellar to allow us indulgence of any whim we so desire…"

"Still, the man is a genius, John…" Anya noted…

"So he tells us…Constantly…Though…" smile… "A bird or two have said…Confidentially…That all his inspiration comes from other sources than the bottle…"

"I should hope so…" Anya, frowning… "Wait?...You're not giving precedence to the rumors about someone else…?"

"And kill the goose before the eggs is laid?...Girl, give me credit…" Hemings frowned… "I'll just be sayin' there are…Rumors…"

"Well, I'm not believin' 'em…And if you know what's best for you, John Hemings…"

He put up his hands in a peaceful gesture…Lass…

"I've no wish to see such tales spread…I'm merely sayin'…Where there be smoke…Sometimes…There be...A fellow puffin' on the Indian pipe…"

She shook her head…Hemings, grinning, turned and left…

Hmmn…She sighed…

Well, not my job to dispel rumors about the authenticity of Mr. Will Shakespeare's works…

In fact, rather more my job to encourage such, I suppose…

Though, I am here for now merely as an observer…D-H having been clear on the set-up of Mr. J's revenge portfolio…No action till 1858 when Mr. Shakespeare's reincarnated self takes the earthly field…

Just have to see no one gives warning…Say some victim of Mrs. S's stake with a desire to win points with the Slayer by alerting her…Or some well-meaning psychic or soothsayer…One can't be too careful in a long-term project like this…

I mean Livia's vengeance scheme for the Roman Empire took nearly 1500 years to bring to fruition…With plenty of opportunity to throw the whole thing off-track…

Seems a shame though about these rumors…Denying poor Will his just due as a great author and handing the laurel to some jerk with a fancy old name…Not to mention it could lessen the effect of our own scheme…I mean if he never becomes the world's most famous author, what's so bad about being reborn as the world's worst poet…

And the current seeker for the mantle…That dork DeVere…

Slimy little wuss with that phony soulful manner…Well, he'd best never let Annie catch up with him…That glam of his will never fool a Slayer as capable as she…

"Seamstress!..."

"Comin', Mr. Burbage…!" she called…

Never a break in this job…D-H should award me extra credit…


	3. Chapter 3

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, .com or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part III…

London lodging of William Shakespeare…The city base and home away from home of England's most popular (subject to (often violent) dispute by rivals) playwright…

The knocking at the door proving not to be as feared, agents of the Queen, intent on ferreting out any potential threats to the blessed stability of Elizabeth's reign…But as the surprise visiting (fretting over reports of rumored attempts by mysterious well-placed persons to claim credit for her husband's work and over reports of Will's 'activities' among London's fair sex…) Anne Shakespeare noted, first inwardly, and then with impatience (What, am I the dim serving wench now?) to her closet-concealed husband and his colleague/competitor (tis best till we know what's about here, girl…And we haven't finished untying Will yet…), Ben Jonson, potentially far worse…

In the form of a rather foppish clerical emissary of the Earl of Oxford, with an insistent note demanding several small but vital scene changes for a previously requested private performance of a slightly older, yet still successful on revival, play, "Richard II"…

"And His Highness the Earl would like these alterations by when?..." Anne asked, innocently…

"By tomorrow night…Can he do it?..." the clerk eyed her…

Hmmn, not bad…A bit of a country wench by her browned skin and those firm arms but with a little carriage and reasonable diction…

This fellow Shakespeare likes his serving lassies buxom and dark as well as clever I see…And a little spirit in those brown eyes…Yes, a nice armful…And old enough to know a thing or two…

"Oh, without fail, sir…" she smiled, bowing head slightly…

Hmmn…The clerk looked her over again…She struggling to hold smile at his taking inventory…

It's not who the little twerp is but whom he represents…For Will's and the kids' sake…She told herself…

Not bad, the clerk summed up…Perhaps before I take my leave I might indulge in a little indulgence…No doubt my gracious Lord would approve it as one of the perks of my position…

Still, should actually confirm things with the fellow…The Earl was rather insistent this be ready on time…

"You're sure Master Shakespeare is unavailable…?"

"I'm afraid so, sir…But I will see he gets your letter within the hour…"

Shakespeare frowning in the closet…Fellow sounds a bit…Forward…

Hmmn…Hour?...Thought the clerk…

Pshaw…Doesn't leave much time for indulgence…Ah well, set things up and when I pick up the completed project, I see to my own fringe benefit…

"All right then…You seem a clever lass…" smile… "And a comely one…" chuck under chin…Pressing small coin in her hand… "Here's something for you now…And a promise of more for us both, later, eh…" wider smile…

Anne, pasting extremely false smile… "Oh, thank you, sir…" slight curtsy…

I'll tolerate a kiss for the greater good but if he goes for the breasts, I'll break his neck and send a boy with my regrets for the sad accident on our dark stairs and a promise as to the work…

("Will…Not now…" Jonson hissed as Shakespeare made for the door…

That little…)

"I must return to the Earl…Til tomorrow, sweet lass…" the clerk turned to go, pausing… "What be thy fair name, girl?..."

("For God's sake and our careers, Will!…" Jonson, desperately clutching an arm…)

"Anne, sir…"

"Well, Anne…I must return to the Earl to report…Tomorrow night we'll toast your master's success in pleasing mine, eh…?" smirk…

Warm smile...Well, you saved your life for one more day at least, bastard…

Though I'd never say no to a free pitcher of good ale…And a chance to make the Mister Shakespeare shake a bit with jealousy…

"Good night, sir…"

"Anne…" elegant wave…Flourishing sweep of cloak on turn, modeled on his master, DeVere's style…Slam of door on departure…

"All right, the little twit's gone off…!" she called to the closet…

A furious Shakespeare, followed by Jonson, emerging…

"What?..." she regarded Will's angry face…Repressed grin…

Nice to see a little of the ole green-eyed monster there, eh?...

"You told that…#$%#!...of a messenger boy…That puffed and perfumed popinjay scrivener to a…Popinjay…"

"That you'd be finished by tomorrow night with these alterations…" she offered the letter calmly… "And I'd expected better from my Shakespeare…Really, Will…Popinjay to a popinjay?..."

"Anne, you know what I mean…He thinks you're…"

"Unmarried?..." she asked, innocently… "He never asked, you know…"

"Anne…Married or un-…The man will be expectin' you to..."

"Every man lives on expectin'…" she airily shrugged…

I know I do…Jonson thought…

"Come now, Will…Since when can't I handle the likes of that?..." she shook her head… "Have I ever given you cause?…I mean since we were plighted, of course…?"

He frowned but shook his head… "Always a first time, girl…"

"And I might be askin' the same of you, you know…" she noted, a bit grimly…

"You didn't even ask…You simply tied me up…" he replied, equally grim…

"That was for yer own and the family's protection…"

"So will I say tomorrow…" he eyed her…

"Will…"

"Let me see the damned thing…" he pointed to the letter in her hand…Which she handed him…

"Changes to my 'Richard II'?…Who the devil does that idiot kid DeVere think he is?..."

"He'll be takin' it as his own in a minute if we're not defending your work, love…As I've been tellin' ya…" she noted… "But we need to go along this one time and find out what his game is and what dangers it might pose to us, the innocent bystanders…It could be political, Will…"

"A play about a king forced to abdicate…I'd say it was…" he nodded…

Hmmn…All three regarded each other…

Not something one wants to take lightly in Tudor England…Even if old Eliza's not the maniac her father Henry was…

Spymaster Walsingham at least being inclined to extreme prejudice in defense of his Queen and realm…Particularly with upstart writers and playwrights…And perfectly content to use them…Or their dead or tortured bodies…To send a little warning to that troublesome noble backer who's a bit tough to bring down without a lot of fuss and feathers…

Nice as it was to be taken seriously by important types…Not something even a playwright protected by a Slayer might want to fool with…

"Those two young idiots Essex and Oxford could drag us down to the abyss…Or the chopping block…Or worse…" Shakespeare noted…

"The 'worse' I'd say for the likes of us…Drawing and quartering at least for commoners implicated in treason…" Jonson nodded thoughtfully…

Hmmn…Well, while it would be nice to see a competitor removed from the chessboard, it would increase the risk for us all…And probably take dear Anne as well…And perhaps muck up my own latter-day revenge…

Besides, it's one thing to triumph over my rival in Art and Love on my own, with a bit of supernatural assist…Come to think of it I ought to have demanded a love spell from that vengeance lord…Quite another to see our profession trampled on by some effete aristo…

"All you've to do is alter a few lines, eh Will? Not a big problem…" Anne insisted…

Jonson eyed Shakespeare…Lord, laypeople…They think this stuff just comes rattling out of our brains, writing itself…

"The hell you say, girl…" Will frowned… "This is an intricate work…Pull out or modify one line and the whole structure can crash to the ground…"

"Indeed, Annie…This is no slight task…" Jonson agreed… "And the whole thing is in verse…It's like a fine timepiece, carefully wound…"

"Exactly…Thanks, Ben…" Will nodded, pleased at the support…

Artists…Anne rolled eyes…Especially, male artists…They sure stick together…

"Fine…But can you make the changes and reset the 'timepiece' by tomorrow evening…?"

"Well…"

"Good…Off to it, love…" she pointed to a room in back…

"But…Anne…"

"What?...There's much to do, Will…You've your work…I'll need to be about finding out what my people know about DeVere and Essex and their plans…And if there's another reason besides sheer vanity that DeVere might be seeking to claim your work as his own…"

Shakespeare frowning…Anne…

Anne, likewise…Will…

Still, tis a proper division of labour, one must concede, he had to admit to himself…

Lord, all this nonsense over one stupid poem commissioned by one stupid young twit of an earl…

Though it did bring Annie to London…A den of iniquity, however profitable for the family fortunes, she constantly swears never to come to, especially whilst the Stratford Hellmouth and her kiddies demand her attention…I owe that fop DeVere thanks for that at least…

Jonson, seeing an opening, spoke up…

"Mistress Shakespeare is right, Will…Best for her to go out and about…I can provide an escort if you like…"

Anne rolling eyes…I can imagine the help he'd be…

"Anne…You yourself said it might be political…Who's to say it might not be best for me to just leave it be and tell that fool I'm too busy…Besides, you just got here…And tied me up…And left me here to go chasing down Ben here…"

Indeed…Jonson nodded, pondering…

Could be there was some double meanin' in that…

"Will, I came because you didn't write back to my letter about the rumors about your work being claimed of another…"

"You haven't even told me how you and the children are faring…"

"Now, love…Hamnet's well, Judy's got a little cold…Suzannah's done a drawing for you…" she reached into the folds of her dress... "Here…" she handed him a scrap of paper…

"She's talented, our Sue…" he beamed at the drawing…

"And they all send Papa their love and want him home…As do I…And thank ye for askin' about me as well…For once…" wry grin…

"Annie…Well…Soon as the season ends, tell them…Did you leave them with Mother and Dad or your people?..."

"The way your dad is these days?…" frown… "My people, of course…"

"He has his troubles, Dad does…But I don't see that…"

"Troubles, indeed…" eye roll… " You know the customs agents found another of his wool shipments…He just barely evaded jail this time…And he got mixed up in that oath-taking business again…He'll be the ruin of us one day for sure…"

"Anne, Dad is a man of faith…The old faith…When not stretching the law on wool marketing…"

People…Jonson sighing inaudibly…Our careers (particularly that of England's greatest playwright, me) and lives on the line?...Can we play "family catch-up" another time…?

"He couldn't just be happy with that coat of arms you got for him…Live in quiet retirement and practice his old faith in secret...As I practice my old profession?..."

Shakespeare, suddenly cautious, glance at Anne…

"You know Ben knows about me work ever since that night I had to save you both in Stratford…" she shrugged… "No worries there…He knows I'd shut his mouth for him if he ever breathed a word…"

"Aye…" Jonson, slight frown…Picturing the moment of said threat, following a late night rescue of the utterly wasted Jonson and Shakespeare returning from a writer's brainstorming session/drunken carouse...

The Undead lass serving at the tavern having been all too willing to follow along with them after closing…

A furious Anne having destroyed said pretty tavern's assistant and her gang of Undead rogues and highwaypeople equally angry at Jonson's leading her husband on a orgastic drinking binge as at the Undead threatening her husband…

…And making it perfectly clear while holding the suddenly sobered Jonson by one hand off the ground that she would indeed keep her promise to disembowel him with that sharp piece of wood in her hand should he ever breathe a word of her abilities…

…Or bring Will home in such a state, again…

"But if he'd be so good as to leave us be a moment…We should be discussin' the household accounts before I go…" she eyed Will…

"Thought you sent me the household accounts last week…" he replied…

Will…For the Lord's sake…Eye roll…

Well, at least it bodes well against them rumors of his doin's here in the City…

"Aye, but you should be seein' them in detail…In your workroom…"

"Oh?..." innocent confusion…

By the Lord's Mass, for an educated man and England's leadin' playwright, you're quite a dense fellow sometimes, William…Anne fumed…

"In…Full detail…Full and naked detail…" she tried, staring…Slight pull at her chest stays…Shaking of fair locks…

Come on Adonis…Venus been without it in Stratford too long…

Oh…Yes…Right…Will eyed her…

"Yes, we should go over those accounts, in back…" Will nodded…

"Thought you'd never ask…" Anne, archly… "Just be a few moments, Ben…Family matters…"

Oh, please…Jonson sighed…Watching the two happily hurrying to the room in back…Pausing at door…

"Just take a minute, Ben…" she called back…

"Anne?...Have I lost any more…?" Will bent head for her observation…Opening door…

She peered…"No…Well…P'rhaps a bit…But not much…" she lied… Pulling him into the room, closing door with slam…

The thanks I get for all my help…Jonson eyed the closed door with smoldering look…

Well, I shall be revenged…

It's guaranteed…

An alleyway near Whitehall…A frowning Anne carefully avoiding several muckholes and trying to fan away the stench with her hand…She paused by a stretch of what seemed to be brick wall…

"The sign?..." A male voice issued from within, via a slot created by the removal of a loose brick…

"Piss off and open, tis' the Slayer!…" Anne replied…

"Yes?...And how would I be knowing it's the Slayer, missy?..." the sharp reply…

"I can dust you through this slot, arse's bastard vampire…Don't you be putting on fal-der-ol airs with me…Tell yer damned (and I mean that literally) boss I've come…" she whacked her stake at the opening in the wall…

Sound of noises from within…Faint sound of argument…

The wall suddenly opened, bricks carefully cut and attached to a wooden door…

"Mistress Hathaway the Vampire Slayer…" another male voice, that of the one arguing with the vampire doorkeeper… "Welcome…"

"Mistress Shakespeare, Willie…" Anne replied…Stepping in…Eyeing the frowning tall gaunt figure frowning at her sourly from the side as the slight and genial Willie took her free hand and gave it a gallant kiss…

"Don't mind Hector…He's a good un, strictly cow's blood…My brother-in-law, a sad and tragic case…"

"You've a lot of brothers- and sisters- in-law, William…" Anne frowned at the little man(?)…

"London's a dangerous place, Ma'am…" Willie sighed… "Me relations are forced to remarry frequently…Hector, a chair for the lady...Will ye have ale, good Slayer?..."

"Twouldn't be sayin' no, Willie…" she nodded, taking seat from the still-frowning Hector…

"What's the bug up his Undead arse?…" she tilted head at the vampire, quaffing a long draw from the mug Willie set before her… "I kill some close mate or one of your innumerable sisters, his spouse?..."

"You're Shakespeare's wife…" Hector replied, suddenly…

"Bastard cheated me on the last oats crop…"


	4. Chapter 4

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, .com or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part IV…

Secret favored den of London's more savory underdwellers…Allowed some protection as neutral ground by the Royal Council of Antiquarians and Scholars and their current Slayer for professed non-violent underdwellers as inducement for such behavior…Officially…

Unofficially maintained solely for intelligence purposes…By the agreement of both sides for mutual benefit…Presided over by Willam Flitch, alias Willie the Snitch, famed half-demon tavern keeper to questionable clientele, fence (sir, that word), all-around "fixer" for London's underworld, both human and in-…Suspected by all sides, hired by all, trusted by none…

Said Willie currently attempting to preserve neutrality in negotiation with the said Slayer, Anne Hathaway Shakespeare…Whose request for political information on two famed…And infamous…Noblemen…Seemed to trouble the Snitch a bit…

Though it was hardly unusual for a fellow of Willie's talents and connections throughout London to be approached on what seemed strictly a human affair, she noted quietly…

"Is there more to these two gents than meets the living eye…Willie?..." she asked as he hesitated…

Ummn…

"No…Not that I've heard…" Willie lied carefully… "But they are two of the most powerful and hot-headed nobles in England…Everybody remembers what they did to that poor Jewish doc of the Queen's?...Why shouldn't I worry?...Especially with that crazy James up in Scotland killing Wiccans right and left and likely to take the throne after good Queen Eliza passes…And those two are said to be in cahoots with James…And plottin' after the queen in some way to possibly hurry things along…Whether they went after me as an otherworlder, or I get painted with their treason, I'd pay quite a price, Slayer, even incidentially…"

"William…You lie like your namesake, my husband…Badly…Are they vamps?...Demons?...Or what?..." she frowned…

"If they were, would they tell the likes of me?...Slayer, come on…"

"They wouldn't have to tell you, William…" she smiled at him… "You'd know…I have faith in my Snitch…Come, tell Annie all…"

You know you don't want to get me angry and all…Her sweetly demure look said…

He sighed…

"What?...Are you afraid of a couple of noble Undeads?...Willie?...You know I'd protect you…When has Annie ever failed you?..."

He frowned… "Two months ago…And you might remember I nearly got killed over it…"

"And how was I to know they could rise a second time?...I rely on you for information, you know…"

Watcher…Her look said, without word…

God…His look back, involuntary slight hand wave…Never even look that word…

As if I ever wanted that job…Lord God…

As if it twere my fault Marlowe got killed here…And you promised it was only till the Council sent a real Watcher…That was back in 1593, for Christ's sake…

Not to mention I've never been paid…Except what you let me keep from Marlowe's person to pay his score…And it's not like your Council isn't based here in London…

And they sure keep sending me demands for reports…As if I'm some kind of scholar, let alone a writer…

Though it is nice when your Will edits my stuff…Even I can tell it's good and it's nice to be published…Even if only in the Watcher annals…

"There's also the question of who's up to stealin' credit for William's works…I've reason to believe it's DeVere…I need you to confirm that…" she eyed him…

He frowned…Slayer…

"Threat…" he hissed…

Ah, right…Can't let my little fellow's rep be besmirched…

"I want information Willie and I know you can get it for me…" she raised her voice…

"Maybe on that…For the right price…I've heard a few things to the effect…"

And I mean it on the coin this time…He regarded her sternly…

"I'd expect so…Lets hear what you got…" she rose…

Slayer…You wait for me to suggest the back room…He frowned…Sighed…Well…

"All right, all right, but in the back room…Not here…" he rose…

"That's more like it, lad…" she nodded…Following after him…

Hector at the tavern's hidden door frowning at them…

The wuss brother-in-law caves again…

Still, suppose I'd do the like if she put the stake to me throat…

And at least he don't do the bowin', scrapin', cringin' with fear in front of the clientele…

Essex House, London…

Essex glaring…

The idea…His sense of propriety solely troubled…He fumed at DeVere's returned messenger…

"He'll get it to us tomorrow?...You mean he's not to come?...The peasant swine!..." slap of aggravated hand to sword hilt…Angry pull at moustache…

"Robert…" DeVere sighed from his chair, pouring himself a glass of wine…Laced with something a bit more suitable to his nutritional needs… "I told you he's a busy man…Of great fame in the world…Bella, girl…" he signaled to a wan-looking, dark-haired maid in corner to take the decanter…Essex eyeing the bottle in the girl's hand briefly…

No, never cared much for Edward's special vintage…I'll stick with my own…He signaled to the girl to pour him a glass from the decanter on the table before him…Turning back to DeVere…

"For writing plays for the mob?...Nonsense…You or I could write better on any day…" Taking glass from the maid who curtsied and left…

So I hope to be told throughout the next centuries…Edward thought, smugly…

Acing Immortality on two levels…The physical and the intellectual…Hearing my name praised eternally…

Really is amazing just how good that little fellow from Stratford is…I perhaps the first to recognize just what we all are dealing with here…A world-changing genius…A mere mortal who can breathe immortal life into characters on a printed page unlike any but a handful of predecessors…Homer, the authors of the Bible, possibly Vergil…

"No peasant makes me wait on him…Go, you rogue…" Essex turned to the nervously waiting messenger, sweat visible on his perfumed brow… "And tell this 'Shakescene' that Lord Essex commands his immediate presence…!"

The messenger eyed DeVere…

"Robert…" DeVere put up a hand… "The man is doing the work…He requires his own place to work in…It's not an insult, I assure you…He is doing the work?..." he eyed the messenger…

"So the girl told me…He was not present but she assured me…"

DeVere's turn to frown… Fellow…

"I do believe I told you to be sure and secure his personal promise to finish by tomorrow…A great deal hinges on that…"

Tremor causing ruffs to shake…

"My Lord, I am certain she will pass all on to…"

"Now we don't even deal with the man…We plead our case with his serving wenches?..." Essex stalked the room, fuming…Pausing to round on the messenger, slamming cup on table…DeVere eyeing table…That's sure to leave a mark on a table I've kept for three hundred years… "You fool!..." Essex ranted at the rather crushed man… "Don't you know our lives…Our very lives, fool!…Depend on this?...And I assure you, I will see to it myself that your life is forfeit should we fail because of this…"

"Please, Robert…" Edward sighed… "Milner will go back and get Master Shakespeare's personal…Personal…Assurance, will you not, Milner?...As to this matter…"

Icy look at the hapless Milner…

Lord, Essex is frightening enough, but sometimes for all his charm, my Lord Oxford is just…Satan himself…

Which doth have its unique allure, at times…Calmer times…

"Yes, of course, my Lord…I'll go at once…"

"Excellent…" DeVere raised a hand… "That will do, have Bella summon a carriage and go now…"

Milner hurried for the door…Essex red-facedly glaring him out…

"A fool to entrust with such a commission…" he frowned…

"Now, Robert…" DeVere, soothingly… "Milner's a good man, he just didn't see the urgency…Besides, I'm sure Shakespeare would never take a commission from me or you and especially both of us, casually…I've no doubt Milner will find him hard at it and it will be with us on time…He's never failed me yet…We must not let ourselves lose our heads at any time in this matter…It's no time for emotion…My good Essex…Essex…Our friends need to see resolute determination and a steady hand…"

"Well…" Essex, calming… "I suppose there's no harm in it…So long as the man finishes in time…But, Edward…" he took a seat in a large chair…

Nice…Rather like the throne I shall soon find myself in…

As the Queen's declared regent for her last years, of course…Oh, heavy burden, but one I shall do my utmost to live up to…

And should England care to grace my services by elevating me in place of a Scottish foreigner when the time comes that our dear Queen departs for her heavenly reward…Who am I to deny my responsibilities to the Nation…?

"…Couldn't you have simply written the parts in?...Knowing your talent and ability, who needs this silly playwright…" he eyed Edward…

"There's no written copy of the manuscript available to me, Robert…Except lines given to actors in dribs and drabs which I've obtained from my patronage…Master Shakespeare likes to keep his work to himself, generally, unlike say, Mr. Jonson…"

"Really?...Difficult to steal, eh?...But I should think it would then be hard for him to keep the credit…If his work is as good as the vox populi and you and some of ours claim…"

Exactly…DeVere, faint smile…

"I suppose so…" he gave a slight sigh… "Tis a pity, really…The man is likely to be forgotten with his death if he takes no care to have his work published and credited…"

"Then you've just done him a grand favor, ordering a fair copy of the work…" Essex noted… "I hope the fellow will be properly grateful…"

One could say so…If I were planning to give him credit…

"Well, given the purpose…I suspect it will be best not to let his name grace the work…As a kindness to him, until we succeed, when of course we can give credit where credit be due…" DeVere, innocently…

"I'd thought to have the author, Anonymous…" he smiled…

Essex shrugged… "As you wish…Though I see no reason to protect the fellow…"

Some might call it that… DeVere, smiling…

But the "protection" may be a two-edged sword when Master William Shakespeare has outlived his usefulness…

Still, he will have the honor of having ghost-written the works of Edward DeVere, Earl of Oxford, greatest playwright…Greatest writer, no less…In English history…

And here, my poor Robert plays a foolish game for the mere and momentary shadow of power…He eyed Essex…This, boy, is true power…Power that will reshape Humanity and the world…Immortal power…Such as even the greatest of past Immortals (well, would-be but for the Slayer, Immortals) has never won…And win or lose, your pitiful bid merely the cover…


	5. Chapter 5

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part V…

In deference to his somewhat frail…Natural in the poetic sort of chap, one assumes…Though on occasion surprisingly able to belie that frailty…Friend DeVere's aversion to the harshness of the noonday sun…Understandable with that pale complexion, I often avoid it myself, freckles do not make for advancement at Court…Essex had sworn to heed his associate and trusted advisor's pleas to allow Master Shakespeare his peace on their factor Milner's return with positive, personal assurance as to the playwright's promise to complete his commission on time…

After all bigger things to focus on just now than setting an overly self-important hack to rights…A kingdom in play…A Nation in need of the resolute and manly leadership which only…Well, a man…Of the manly sort…Could provide…

That is, of course, if dear old "grandmamma" Eliza will be sensible and hand over affairs to younger,

more capable hands…In her and the Nation's best interests, of course…

Cut me off from my monopoly on the duties for sweet wines, my chief source of income, will she?...Damned old biddy…As if I didn't slog round dreary, boggy Ireland for her sake for months…And she making all that fuss about my handing out a few knighthoods to keep morale up… "Her prerogative" indeed…

Still…It's all in her interests…Poor old thing's clearly no longer capable of resisting her bad advisors…The damned Cecils…

Well, after tonight, when my people are braced by our little play…We shall be ready to seize power and exclude our enemies…And I shall finally be free to call my soul my own…

Not that I shall be harsh in my justice…Those who called me foolish boy, Queen's boy, lap dog, curly-topped fop…Won't be drawn and quartered…If of noble blood, of course…The ax will do just fine…

And we shall once more be the Protestant scourge of Europe, aiding friends, crushing enemies…Yes, twill be a new golden age, to be lauded by the greatest poets of our time…Good ole DeVere, my staunch friend, that what's-his-name…Yes, Shakespeare…Ancestor must have been a foot soldier once…And the rest…A golden age, of a type not seen since Augustus Caesar…He smiled at a bust of said Caesar…

And there's no question who's the better looking of us world-historical leaders…

"Contemplating the new era, are we?..." DeVere's voice, only the slightest trace of ironic mockery…

"Edward…" Essex turned to greet his friend…Looking rather well today…

Yes, was a good idea to move him in here for the main event…The change of air obviously beneficial…

Never did like that place of his…All those awful smells in corners…Like rotting meat…And the dreariness of the place with those wan-eyed servants and the spiritless local peasantry…

Like my peasants feisty and cheerful…Though of course, knowing their place…

Now that Bella…He eyed the maid trailing after DeVere…She certainly needs a change…Though not much improvement on her part as yet…If anything, a bit paler…

Still, looks good in a woman…

DeVere took a book from Bella… "That will be all, dear girl…You go and have a bit of a rest, eh?"

She curtsied to both men and wanly headed off…

"Tis a fair wench, that…" Essex noted, watching Bella disappear down the hall from behind… "And delightfully mild and docile…Where did you find her?..."

"Oh, one rather dull summer in the country when I was incognito seeking the inspiration of the natural…Had some nonsensical idea there'd be some in the simple lives of the peasantry…She was a milkmaid whom…Whose services…I used…I decided to keep her on afterwards…"

One always finds a personal cow insures that daily 'milk' delivery…

"… Sometimes do regret it though…" DeVere glanced down the hall, frowning at where the girl had just got through a door… "Such mildness can be tiresome over the long haul…"

Deathly so, in fact… Really looking forward to trading up soon…And I hear tell the Slayer is a feisty sort…

"Truly?..." Essex shook his head… "I'd gladly take a mild wench over my current harridan of a wife…"

Essex' houseguest frowned… Yes, that one…Pity she has to be dead Walsingham's daughter…The spymaster's agents still keeping close watch over her…A danger to my influence over the boy should we triumph by some unlikely chance…

Well, should it be so…Even her people's contacts with the Council and the Slayer won't protect her…Till then, patience…The virtue that has stood me so well for so many centuries…

"Girl needs a bit of sun, though…" Essex noted…

"A wasting illness, I fear…Troubles me deeply but nothing to be done…" DeVere shrugged briefly…"And how are we today, old friend?…Ready to take your place in history?..."

That of minor footnote in my glory…He smiled blandly at Essex…

"Certainly…" Essex drew himself to a resolute pose… "And with friends like you beside me, Edward…"

Oh, behind, boy…Definitely behind…Urging you on to your destiny with that final, fatal shove…

"…I cannot fail…"

He hesitated a moment… "Still…"

Ah, here it comes…DeVere sighed inwardly… I knew that ole self-preservation bone…The one thing mature in this idiot clown…Would kick in, eventually…

"…I have dispatched another trusted agent to the Queen…Hopefully she will see reason…"

"Reason, being?..." DeVere eyed him…

Knew I shouldn't have let him out of my or one of my own's sight…Even to feed on dear Bella…

"My restoration to my proper place on the Council, the removal of the Cecils from office, our proposed legislation to be passed in Parliament, my monopoly on sweet wines' duties restored…And of course, proper recognition for my successes in Ireland…" Essex noted…

Well then, no problem…Thought fear might have driven the fool to some degree of sanity with an abject plea for clemency and only the Council and the wines as requests…She'll never listen to the rest of that nonsense…And as for "recognizing" that mess of a campaign…And handing over her right to grant titles…Lord, even I'm tempted to kill this idiot now for England's greater good…

"And we await reply?..." he asked, pleasantly…

"I hope she will listen to sweet reason…She's been led astray but I still hold my Queen…"

"Certainly, certainly…" DeVere nodded… "But you are fixed in your resolve to take action if negotiation fails…?"

"Naturally…" Essex, slightest and resolutest of nods…

Not really many options left to me otherwise…

"Good…Well, keep a stout heart, my friend and all will be well…I promise…"

For me, naturally…he thought… For you, dear Bob…Well, let Fate decide…I give your chances a bare 5%...

Especially given that crew of noble twits backing you up…

"Well…?" Anne, seated on bench at her closet watcher, Willie's, table in his rather famed "back room" where many a deal involving negotiations between living and dead had been settled, regarded the lovely young fair-haired woman, of noble birth by her dress and carriage, standing a bit abjectly before her…

"Have I protection here…Or no…?" the girl eyed Willie, seated next to Anne, then returned to stare at the infamous Slayer…

Rather a coarse type this one…The last Slayer had some refinement, clearly of gentle, if French, birth…This one's likely some uppity milkmaid…

"You do, Frances…If you've anything useful to the lady here…" Willie, coolly…

"I want your word…" Frances eyed the Slayer…

"Surely…" Anne nodded… "If you do no harm to humans and as friend Will here says, your knowledge be of use…You're a ward of the Queen, he says…Her Majesty might not like to hear one in whom she'd lavished trust and affection was a demon wearing human…"

"I don't take humans for feed and I didn't kill the girl…" Frances insisted anxiously… "She died of fever…It was a blessing to the poor woman, the mother, that I took her and played the part…I was a good daughter to her whilst she lived…"

"Fine…" Anne nodded… "And if you be good ward to the Queen, you'll assist me now in ridding her realm of whatever menace is here…"

Even if it only be a bad poet seekin' to take my Will's mantle…She did not say…

"He'll be angry…I want your promise…" the girl eyed both…

"Granted…As I said…Now?...As to 'he'?..."

"DeVere and Essex are still plotting against the Queen…Southampton's in league with them…And there are others…" Frances sighed…

"And?..." Anne, gently… "You know what I want to know, lass…"

"Edward's one of your prey…" she nodded… "Essex, no…But DeVere's one of the oldest in England to survive…Your word?..."

"You've proof?..."

"A Slayer needs proof?..." Frances blinked…

"I've no desire to kill an innocent man, lass…Innocent by my lights, that is…Treason I leave to the Queen and hers to deal with…I've never heard of DeVere's being one of the Undead…"

"I'm no liar, Slayer…" Frances, indignant… "You ought to remember to whom you are…"

She gulped as Anne pulled out her stake…

"…A foul demon stealing the body of a dead girl…I know whom I'm speakin' to quite well, lassie…"

"I kept her alive…She'd never have lived to womanhood…To grace the Court as I do…"

"Noble of ye…" Anne, waving hand… "What proof?..."

"He's employed me…For intelligence at Court, only, I swear…He found out about me, blackmailed me, threatened to expose me…But since, I've gotten close to him…And seen him with his current cow…His maid…"

"Cow?..."

"He keeps one human alive for a fair number of years as his only feed…It's how he's avoided detection…This maid's his latest…"

"So?..."

"Ma'am?..."

Anne frowned…Don't play with me, demon…

"What's his game lass?...Why would a vampire who's kept himself out of the annals of the Council want to take a risky venture like this on for?..."

"The Council will see you're safely taken to the Continent…Willie?..." Anne looked to her partner who shrugged…

Sure…Nod…

Avoiding an eye roll…Like the Council'd ever listen to me…Stand-in Watcher or no…

"I don't know his plans…But…" Frances hesitated…

Anne, cool stare…

"…I don't think he believes young Lord Essex has a snowball's chance in Hell…He simply wants to put things in turmoil…And there's some young playwright he wants to tar with Essex's brush…"

"What the fuck ye say?..." Anne, bolt upright… Willie eyeing her in as much alarm as Frances…

"I…" Frances gasped…

"What young playwright?...And where be the bastard now?..." Anne had sprung up and bore down now on the frightened "young woman" who cringed...Looking to Willie for aid…

You always said you liked it Willie…Her desperate look…

"It's all right…"Anne waved a hand…Motioning an anxious Willie back… "Just tell me, lass…"

"I don't know the man…He's some fellow DeVere follows a lot…Very popular right now with the masses and even the right sort…We're not allowed to attend the theater except on special occasions…Her Majesty feels it would degrade our sensibilities and open us to public scorn by the foul audience…" Frances, slight air of superiority despite the overriding air of fear…

"Shakespeare?..."

"I don't know…Is he the popular one now?...I've heard of a Mr. Jonson who's big…"

"…why tar with Essex's brush?...You mean involve him in their plot somehow?..."

Frances, nervously backing up a bit from Anne's harsh glare…And sharp, upheld stake…

"Just tell the lady, Fran…" Willie, soothingly… "It'll all be ok then…"

Wan smile to Willie…

"I think so…I think Edward wants the man dead…And his work lost, somehow…Though why…"

"This whole thing is to set up Will Shakespeare?..." Willie crystallized, Anne staring at him…

And like a fool I…She gulped…

"It's the revision…But there was to be no name on the work?...How was that to expose my Will to danger?...Frances!..." her voice sharp as Frances' wandering eyes clearly sought the exit door…

"Slayer, I don't know…But Edward is with Essex at Essex House…You can kill him there, if the Queen's guard don't…They've orders to arrest or whatever Essex if he leaves his house arrest…And he plans to, soon…"

"The play was to be performed at Essex House tonight…Do they move tomorrow?...Frances…" Anne frowned at the girl now giving Willie a pleading glance…

After all we've meant to each other, William?...And how many court ladies would give you the attention you deserve…?

"Frances, are they to take action tomorrow…?"

She shrugged… "I only know Edward said it would be soon…"

"All right…" Anne sighed…Then gave the girl a hard look…

"We'll have to be finding out ourselves then, won't we…Ma'am?..."

"Slayer?..." Frances, Willie…

"You have a new maid, girl…And you're attending a special performance of one of me husband's finest first works…"Richard II…"

Frances stared…Willie stared…

"The Queen won't hear tell of this will she?...She'd be mightily pissed at me taking in a play without her permission…"

"Just worry how mightily pissed the Slayer will be should her husband be harmed in the slightest…" Anne noted quietly…

"Slayer…There's no need to be frightening her…Frances will go along and do her best, won't ye, Fran?..."

Oh, yeah…Frances, nodding hastily to Anne's stare…

"But you'll need proper clothes…And you must learn a bit of proper manners and ediquette…You can't just clomp along as a true lady's…" Frances paused…

Whoops…Not the time for my Court sensibilities to intrude…

"You're right…You've five hours to teach it all to me…" Anne, calmly… "Your life depends on it, so do well by me, ma'am…"

My…She is married…And happily, more or less…To the fellow in question…Must be awful, bein' Slayer and all…Threats at each and every turn to him…Breakable little human, though?...Poor matin' choice for such a warrior…

Still, I suppose I know enough about findin' true love in the strangest places to understand…

Warm beam to Willie…


	6. Chapter 6

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part VI…

Rooms of Ben Jonson…London…

A frowning Anya in gown and muddy…London streets muck muddy…Shoes eyeing her client…Her settled client, vengeance plan in place and underway…Her only remaining duty supposed to be observation until death of the factors involved…Either both victims or the said client…

Not to give weekly updates and take orders…Particularly take orders…

Bad enough I'm seamstress to a company of ego-driven actors with 17th century license to sexually harass…Though it is amazing all-in-all how few really go too far…But I'm not some vengeance serving wench…I'm a professional…

Besides I already did the serving wench quite thoroughly in my human existence as Aud…

"Master Jonson?...Your note said you needed to see me…And please, in future, be very careful about using 'Anyanka'?...I do have other clients, some of whom might like to know I'm around…For your sake as well as mine, sir?..."

"Sorry…Thought you'd want to know I didn't require some stitching…"

You will for sure if Mistress Shakespeare ever learns what ye be up to, Benny-boy…

"Right, sir…Just how about letting my cover function next time, ok?...I won't mind if it's really just sewing you require…"

In fact I could use the extra coin…

"Fine then…I'll heed you for the next time, if one…So?...Are things proceeding?..." Jonson asked…

"As well as ever, sir…But you know all will not go into effect till long after your deaths…"

"Never did care much for that, lass…" Jonson, frowning…

"The irony of the curse only works if Master Shakespeare's had time to be immortalized in history, sir…We did go over that…And you agreed to it…"

"Lovely…Some curse, that…And twasn't as if you gave me options…" Jonson, bitterly…

"You'll not be forgotten yourself, sir…" she sighed…

If you get off your ass and go to work on something worthwhile, doofus…Instead of mooning over the "dark lady"…

"Was that all, sir?..."

"No…Twas not…In fact, I've some information…Privileged, as it were…From the lady for whom all this is being done…That could influence events, dramatically…"

And I ought to know, being England's greatest dramatist…Whatever a few idiots say about Shakespeare…He fumbled in his pockets, pulled out a scrap of rather fine parchment…

Hmmn…Court stationery if I don't miss my guess…And I know goods…Anya eyed the piece…

Thought the Shakespeares were the frugal type…Unless it's his playwriting parchment…Best not to spare expense there, I imagine…

"It's from Court…She's there, God knows how…" Jonson waved the letter… "Here, read…"

"'Ben, I've learned a few things and must attend Will's special performance tonight at Essex House…DeVere is of the Undead, beware him…I'm preparing to go with a young noblewoman as her maid…Don't be askin', no time…Tell William on no account is he to go to Essex with the company tonight…In fact, he's to head for Strafford at once…Tell him his life…And mine, therefore…Depends on it…Or tell him the children are ill…Whatever works, just get him out…Anne…'"

Hmmn…Remarkable…I didn't know Anne could write at all…

"Sounds like a climax…" Anya noted…

"Sounds like a chance to deal with mine enemy ahead of schedule, lassie…" Jonson smiled… "If I were to be delayed in getting to him…And if someone urged him along to Essex House…"

Charming…Anya thought, eyeing Jonson's malicious grin…

"All ye need do is go and tell him Lord Essex is anxious he attend…I know Will Shakespeare, he'll go to learn what's up if he wasn't already planning to, for Anne's sake…Hell, I could probably give him this and he'd be even more anxious to go…But a tad more cautious…"

"Sir…" Anya frowned… "You have a contract with my Lord D'Hoffryn…Specifically stating that your vengeance comes in 1880…not 1599…"

"Lass…Think of the time and trouble saved…" Jonson grinned…

And the loss of a crack at the Slayer's soul…I can just see how Lord D'Hoffryn will like this one…

"…And if he be killed, owing to her slowness…" Jonson, quickly grasping the key argument…

"I know your Lord wants her for his little troupe…Why not help him to her sooner?...Ye can put it all on me…I'm the client, am I not?..."

"We follow a strict 'no substitutions' policy, Mr. Jonson."

"I think I'd like to take the matter with your Master…" he frowned at her…

"Lord D'Hoffryn doesn't do house calls, Mr. Jonson…" Anya glared…

And next time, neither do I…

"My role here is strictly to observe and ensure that the Slayer and her husband do not learn of our plans for their futures…Good evening, Mr. Jonson…"

"Lass…" he stared at empty air…

Damned impudent little…

Well…Now what…He eyed the note…

Hmmn…Nothing says I still can't encounter a bit of unfortunate delay…And see where events lead…

Then again…Ben Jonson makes no use of such deviousness…Himself…

His underworld allies…Their business…

And no note and Will might think alls well and stay at home…No, I see honesty as the best policy here…

With perhaps a bit of stress on the danger to poor Anne, facing God knows what as well as what she already knows…

After all, wouldn't be proper to have Will sittin' safe at home whilst his missus was fighting Essex, his men, and whatever unholy fiends are looking to exploit the current turmoil in the state…Even if she does do it all the time…

"I don't think I like this…" Lord of all things Vengeance, D'Hoffryn frowned at his minion, Anya…In to the report the latest turn of events in her assignment…

Just the messenger, boss…And I coulda kept it under my rather nice hat…My little sideline to go with the seamstress gig…And not doing too badly, either, if you've noticed what the females of the audience at the Globe are wearing…

"This Jonson is becoming more trouble than he's worth…Are you sure he's not up to something?..."

"Actually…I'd guess he is, D-H…"

"And you leave him unsupervised?..."

"He's only human, boss…Besides, I'm keeping him montored…"

"I don't want him interfering with this project, Aud…I mean it…"

"Yes sir…Anya, sir…"

"It's Aud and much worse if you fail…The Shakespeares must live to see William's efforts crowned in glory…It's essential…"

To my theater-going, he did not say…

I mean who knows what might be lost if DeVere has his way…Besides my best shot at bringing the Slayer into our fold…A shot far too carefully planned out to be thrown away on a client's sudden wim…

"But what about that vampire…The would-be thief?...Do I?..."

"Not at this moment…But stand-by…It's unfortunate he had to get involved…He has powerful friends in Hell…Well, if he seems likely to defeat the Slayer and steal William's thunder, we may have to act…Or re-evaluate…However…" D'Hoffryn smiled… "I've faith in our lady Slayer…"

"But I shouldn't act to make him back off?...Surely the very mention of your name…?"

Is she being sarcastic?...D'Hoffryn eyed Anya carefully…

Always hard to tell with this one…She does eager earnestness so well…

"There are people in Hell I don't wish to get involved with over this business…Just observe and report, Anya…No direct action unless personally ordered by me…"

"Yes, sir…"

"Of course, if you were to find a way to pass a bit of useful info to the Slayer at the right moment without indulging in the use of power not readily available to any mortal…In a normal human way sure not to arouse the suspicion or wrath of any major Immortal…"

"Right, boss…" she beamed…

License to blab…Within reason…That's what makes my boss so beloved…

"And let me know if the Slayer moves to confront DeVere openly…"

"Boss…?"

"I couldn't resist a chance to see that twerp cringing in fear…" D'Hoffryn grinned…

Shakespeare scanning the parchment good ole "Honest Ben" had brought faithfully to him as he and Jonson sat in his main chamber…The full write-up of "Richard II" with revisions beside them on a small writing table…

"You're sure?...She can't honestly mean to confront DeVere and Essex at Essex House…Without telling me…?"

"She seemed convinced you were in danger…" Ben, solemnly… "And loving lass that she is…" he sighed…

"Right…" Shakespeare rose…Taking hat off shelf and pulling it on firmly…My that spot is growin' something awful, Ben noted, eyeing bald spot…

"They wanted their revision as soon as possible…They'll get it as soon as possible…"

Here now…No need to get silly and cut into your brethren's pockets…Jonson thought in slight alarm…

At least hold back until tomorrow…Then after a day's wages are paid show 'em you're a miracle worker…

"I'll be off…Tell Anne…If she comes in…Oh, I'll probably see her before you do…"

Uh-oh…Jonson pondered…Always the chance Anne won't appreciate my utter failure to carry out the spirit of her communication…I should at least make a show of support…

And who knows what opportunities may arise in the heat of battle…

"Valiantly, England's greatest dramatist labored to save his friend, the somewhat promising Will Shakespeare…In dread combat with the forces of darkness…But in vain…Alas…However his deeply grateful widow…"

Yes, that's why I am England's greatest dramatist…

Though no slouch for comedy or romance, mind you me…

"Hold on there, Will…" he hurried after…


	7. Chapter 7

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part VII…

A slightly less direct route to Essex House…But one with a certain advantage…

"Here, dearie…Come along now…Oh, don't be such a friggin' prick, you…Alice is hot for you, love…Come along, now…" insistent tone…Hungry look…

"Jesu, preserve me…" Will sighed… "Lass, husband of the Slayer…" he eyed the vampiress/prostitute eyeing him from her doorstoop as he passed…

Blink, careful look…Oh, God…So, tis…

"Right, sir…Honest trade, strictly voluntary, non-fatal drawin'…My best to your lady…Take care, sir…" she gave him a nervous smile… "Husband of the Slayer, there!…" she called down the street…

"Evenin' sir…We run a voluntary shop here, sir…" "How be the missus, sir?..." "Mind how you go there, sir…" various calls from different dark doorways…

Who'd've of thought this vampire lane would be the safest street, more or less, in London…For me, at least…Will smiled to himself… Annie certainly having put the fear of Slayer, if not God, in them during her last visit to town…Any such den of humans and I'd be sure to have had my life threatened and likely my fool throat cut an hour ago…

He frowned and pulled a cross as a burly figure stepped out to cross his path…

Nope, not susceptible…Either an atheist, demon, or…

"Coin, you!…Or I slit gizzard!…" the burly, utterly human, figure pulled knife…

"Henry!..." a cry…A buxom blonde racing out from a lighted doorway, a rather disreputable tavern, averting her eyes from Will's cross…

"Human, sir…Me husband, sir, no offense, sir…Henry, this be the Slayer's husband…Come along!…"

"Slayer or no, coin!..." Henry replied, waving knife…Wobbling in his stance…

"A bit too much drink and drain…Voluntary…" the woman noted apologetically… "Come along, Henry, I told you to eat something…He's just tryin' to cover the month's rent, sir…Trade's a bit slow this year…"

Will staring…Dear God…

"It's fine…Just take him in…"

"Thankee, sir…Best to your wife, sir…Please come by anytime for a drink on the house, sir…" she smiled at him…

"Wait…" he called to her…She urging Henry inside as he made futile swipes of the knife and muttered inarticulately…Staggering…

She turned back to him…Holding Henry…

"You and him…Together, still?..."

"I've our stillborn babe in me, sir…Died when I did…Soul's holding me nature down…Your missus' Council's got me case in their records, they've been watchin' me…And I was a very lovin' wife to him…"

"Don't you hurt her!..." Henry suddenly took up a wavering defensive stance, breaking free of his wife…

"I won't, lad…" Will nodded…Smiling at the woman…

Lord, the extraordinary things Anne has brought to me…If only I could write about half of them…

"God bless you, girl…My wife does know of you?..."

"I believe so, sir…Agnes Schofield, sir…I think she'll know the name…Her people have been very kind to me…" she smiled back, carefully forcing the knife out of her husband's wavering hand… "Come along, Henry, lad…It's fine…The gentleman is Mr. Shakespeare, the Slayer's man…He won't harm me…"

"She's a good…hic…Woman…Still…Don't say she's not…!" Henry waving arms…

"An angel…" Will nodded…Henry eyeing him…

"Here's it, lad…" Will pulled out a coin and tossed it over… "A loan, till your trade picks up…"

"Thankee, sir…" Agnes beamed as Henry carefully staggered over and picked up the coin…

"And we will be in for that drink, thanks, lass…I've got to hurry now…"

"Lookin' forward to seein' you, sir…" Agnes nodded…Henry?...She urged…

"Evenin' sir…" Henry croaked…She gently tugging him along, back inside…

"Sir!...Mr. Shakespeare, is it?..." a call…He turned to see the first vampiress prostitute hurrying after him, leading a rather startled-looking Ben Jonson…

"Gentleman says he's a friend of yours?…No offense, he seemed to be followin' you, sir…"

"Ben?...It's quite all right, lass…Thanks…"

"Glad to oblige you, sir…" the vampiress smiled at the coin Will carefully offered her, a light toss at the end… "Very kind of you, sir…Best to the Missus…"

"Aye… Ben?...What the devil?..."

"Anne asked me to keep you from harm, Will…Just keepin' me pledge to the lady of me best mate and fellow wordsmith…" Jonson, slight gasp at recovering from near-death experience…

Quite a death that, at that lassie's hands…Almost worthwhile, to think on it…

"And we curtsy…No, no…Like this…" Frances made a careful, sweeping curtsy…Anne stiffly attempting to follow in her borrowed gown… "Better…"

"And then… 'Your Grace…' head down till he acknowledges you…Then back to me…Good…"

"Right…" Anne sighed…

Frances eyeing her…Well?...The 'girl', frowning slightly, awaiting…

"My lady…" Anne, frowning…

She/It had better not be enjoying this too much…

"If you want to pass for a maid, this froward expression has to go, girl…Er, Slayer…" hasty correction…

"Right…My lady…" Anne pasted a smile… "Are we ready?...It's dark now…"

"As we'll ever be, I suppose…" Frances' delicate features wrinkling at a caught scene… "Pity no time for a bath…"

"What?..."

"Nothing…Just put some of this civet on…" Frances sighed, handing a small jar … "And let me give word that we're going out to the evening guard…I'm off duty but he'll cover for me if the Queen should request me suddenly…I'm one of her favorites, you know…" proud beam…

"Can't say as I love the idea of you attending the Queen, lass…" Anne eyed her…Frances frowning in her turn, back…

"I've been a loyal and dutiful lady-in-waiting for four years…You've no call to accuse me of disloyalty…Never once have I done Her Majesty harm or betrayed her trust…And I'm better behaved than most of those sluts in gowns…Now, I'm willin' to help you at risk of my job, but there's no call for insulting me…"

"Fine…" Anne shrugged… "Just keep up the good work and we'll have no trouble between us…Go and see your boyfriend…"

"James is not my boyfriend…He's fifty and happily married…Though, I could tell you a tale or two about some of the other guards and my coworkers…I tole you I love Willie…I'm no Court strumpet, you know…"

"You're a paragon, for sure…The Queen should have more demon-possessed ladies…Get on with it, now…" Anne waved her off…

"This is not the attitude to show with the Earls…" Frances noted firmly but turned and headed out of the room…Pausing by the door… "And I'm possessing no one…I told you, miss, the poor girl died just before I took her, of illness…And I paid her father very well, in recompense…He was desperate enough to do a resurrection, with likely awful results, when he met me…The family would've lost everything without me…Her…As heiress to her uncle…And he appreciated what I did for mother…Ummn, her mother…" she continued out… "Close the door after me, girl…" sudden tone change, smile to a passing guard…

"Eh…" Anne growled, sauntering…Damn this stupid gown, how can one walk in this?...With forced exaggerated steps to the door, and slamming…

"…Yes, my lady…" sarcastic tone…

Things I do for that man of mine…

Though, when one doesn't have to walk in it…She eyed herself in the long looking glass of the wall near…Not too bad a dress for style, really…She turned…

And lady of the Court or no…I do rather carry it off…

Am gettin' a trifle big round the girth, though…Better lay off the ale a bit when I get back home…

"Who?..." Essex eyed his maid who'd brought word of another guest arriving…

"Master Shakespeare, my lord…"

"What, at my front door?...The impudence…Tell him to go round the back with his people, those actors…"

"He requested an audience my lord, says he has an important item to deliver to you, personally…"

"Item?...Oh, yes…Well…Very well…Though remind him next time to use the servants' entrance…Show him into me…" The maid curtsying and heading off…

Damned uppity fellow…Thinks a little writing for mooning idiots makes him my equal?...

DeVere stood in the opposite entranceway, the obsequious Bella behind… "Robert?...How goes it?...Anything wrong?..." he eyed the sullen expression…

"Our playwriter is here, Edward…And would like us to wait his pleasure…" Essex, irritated…

"I swear when I come to power, fellows like this will learn their…"

"Master Shakespeare, my lord…" the maid had returned…

"Will Shakespeare…" DeVere stepping forward hastily to cut off Essex's annoyed stride…

"Very good of you to come so quickly…" he offered a hand…Shakespeare bowing…

Jonson, beside him, fuming slightly…

What am I taken for his manservant?...

"My lord…And my lord Essex…" Shakespeare offered a bow Essexward…Essex eyeing him coldly…Curtest of nods…

"May I present my colleague, Mr. Jonson…Of great fame in the theater these days…"

"Of course…The great Ben Jonson…" Oxford smiled…

The deep pocketed, but still douche-bag of a poet, Oxford…Jonson noted inwardly, bowing…Still, even if he's of one of the persuasion…And judging from the looks of these two…He eyed Essex, then DeVere…They're of that other persuasion, if not the Undead sort…He is a patron to keep on one's best side… "My gracious lord…"

"I wanted to thank you personally for your generous patronage and support of my older work…Here it is, with the revisions you requested…" Will offered a packet, securely tied with twine…

"Excellent…" DeVere beamed, taking the packet… "Isn't it, Robert?...You have our thanks, Shakespeare for such quick work…Bella?..." he passed the packet to Bella who quietly took it…

"So 'Richard II' hits the boards again…A marvelous work, really, Robert…" Edward smiled at Essex, still sullenly regarding the upstart peasant…Balding fellow, too…Before him…

"My Lord Oxford is too kind…" Will replied, eyeing Essex…

Yep, pretty much as the boys described him to me…

Not that I generally risk a plunge on anything but produce futures, but I wouldn't give his chances much worth…

"Yes…" Essex nodded, coolly… "My Lord Oxford is quite taken with you, Shakespeare…Tells me you're a genius with the quill…"

Hallo…Ben Jonson here…Greatest dramatist of the English stage…Jonson thought, regarding Essex coolly…

"Only a humble scrivener of words, my Lord Essex…" Will bowed again…

"Well, Oxford is a major poetic type so he should know…Very well, we'll see if this merits our support…"

"Thankee, my lord…Lord Oxford, if I might be granted leave to see the players?...I'd like to review the revisions with them, particularly Mr. Burbage…See they all understand the new passages…"

"Certainly…Bella…Take Masters Shakespeare and Jonson to the players…" DeVere waved them on with smile…

Hmmn…Will pondered…If I were to place money on one of them being of my wife's chosen prey…

Though, it's a pity…DeVere truly sucks as a poet but he does appreciate the fine arts and his patronage has benefitted many of us…

Interesting scene this…The young aristocrat of rather artistic bearing whatever his lack of talent dispatching revisions to his actors…An additional few lines to heighten the impact of a scene for a target audience…His fate hinging on the reception…

One could make use of this in another context, perhaps a bit nobler one…And a little thank you to the fellow for his generous support over the years, should Anne have to kill him…

"Master…Shakespeare…" Bella spoke softly to him, urging…

"Yes, coming, lass…Thanks, again, my lords…Ben, shall we?..."

Hmmn…He eyed the wan Bella awaiting him…

Jonson looking as well…Nice piece, that…Though a bit less ruddy and red-cheeked than I like 'em…

Definitely been fed on…I'm afraid it's not looking good for one of the English art world's most generous patrons… "Please, miss…" Will kindly bowed to the girl…


	8. Chapter 8

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part VIII…

"So…Then…" dramatic pause, naturally…The speaker being the acknowledged greatest actor of the company and England's greatest, at least by his reckoning and both the company's and his own promotion, star, Richard Burbage, reasonably resplendent in his kingly costume, a matinee idol par excellence, coupled as his mates would reluctantly admit with an outstanding talent, particularly for the challenging roles of their master playwright… "I tell the little piece that I wrote the damned thing for her…"

"She believed you?..." a male voice from an actor decked out as Queen of England…

"Well…I asked her, how could I recite it so well if I were not the author, apart, naturally, from my state of inflammation by her beauty…"

"Come now, Dick…" John Hemmings shook head… "She's a bright lass…I don't believe it…"

"You'll believe in about six months, Johnny…" Burbage grinned…

"OOOOHHHH!..." howl from the rest of the assembled cast…

"Ah…" Hemmings, good-naturedly chuckling…Looking over to the opening door to see Bella, holding it now for Shakespeare and Jonson entering, she quickly closing… "The man himself…Good evening, Will!…Ben!...Come to view the competition…?"

"None that I see here, Johnny…" Jonson called back…

"Come to bring a steadying hand to these amateurs, Will?..." Burbage called…

"A hopeless task, Mr. B…" Shakespeare shook head, grinning… "Everyone ready for an evening in verse…?"

"Don't remind me…" Hemmings, mournful tone… "Why you had to do the whole thing like this, I'll never know…"

"It doth go trippingly across thy tongue, Jonathan…" Burbage grinned… "And the ladies see it as refined, for sure…"

"A bit less so this time out…Have you reviewed the revisions I had sent over?..." Shakespeare eyed Burbage…

"Aye..." Burbage, a bit more serious now…Several others among the cast likewise eyeing Shakespeare…

"Seems to tighten up the deposition scene a bit…And somewhat less question as to Henry's right in bumping my poor namesake off his seat?...Not to mention throwing the meter off…"

"A special commission…I did my level best to rebalance it…You'll have to paper any awkward spots…"

"I've done that often enough, with your stuff…" smile…Then, sober look… "But Will…Given the current situation at Court, isn't this a bit…?"

"Gunpowder, William…" Hemmings cut to the chase… "Are you sure we want to be involved here?..."

"We're simply actors doing a play, John…Strictly non-political…And well-fee'd…"

"Yet some might take even our accepting such from a fellow under Essex's cloud as a bit suspect…" Hemmings noted…Burbage nodding slightly…

"We don't want trouble, Will…Is there potential?..." Burbage, quietly grave…His expression rather enhanced by the ceremonial robes and crown…

"Ole Bess has been a blessing…" the actor in female costume noted…Several nodding… "We've no wish to get caught up in some nonsense…"

"We won't be…" Will put up a hand… "I promise you, our work here is strictly artistic…No one's going to bother about it…"

"Some one bothered about Marlowe back in '93, they say…" Hemmings, coolly…

"We don't know that…Chris was known for brawling when in his cups…" Shakespeare shook his head… "And Walsingham is long dead…"

"But his spirit…Damned be it…Lives on…" Burbage, carefully… "We don't say we won't do it, Will…We just want assurance…"

"You've mine…" Will nodded… "I take on any responsibility, though I swear that there is none to fear…Except that you lot will make damned bad meat of my poor play in front of the gentry…"

"Hopefully not all male…" Burbage grinned… "I brought so many gifts for the ladies…" he posed a bit…

Ducking as a shoe was hurled at him…The first actor in female costume now joined by another young actor in dress, putting wigs on…

"Oh…Mr. Burbage…Do…Do…" they chorused, simpering…

"A whore, a whore…Dick's kingdom for a whore…" Burbage, grabbing at the first actor…

"Ben…?" Hemmings had slideled over to Jonson as Shakespeare urged a few less high spirits…Gentry down the hall…

"What do you think about this business?...Are we gettin' in over our heads?…I'd like to keep mine, you know…"

"I'm sure Will knows what he's doin', Johnny…" Jonson patted him… "In fact, I've reason to say I doubt this business will do the Court any annoyance…" shrewd look…

"Oh?...A new liberal spirit pervading?...Or is the ole woman gone and lost it over that pretty boy again?..."

"Neither…" Jonson kept a low tone, smiling over at the others clustered about Shakespeare who was reviewing the new lines with Burbage…

"…You know full well, Bess never lost her head over any man…Except perhaps old Dudley…"

"The pretty boy's stepdad…Not a mild inducement to look after him…And tolerate his pettier faults…"

"What that fool's done and intends are no petty matters…" Jonson, quietly…

"Then what are we doin' here?...Is Will crazy…?" Hemmings hissed…

"You won't suffer for it, John…Will's right there…In fact…The Court might take rather kindly, in a way, to knowing who attended tonight's showing…A clear list of all those supporters among the gentry who listened to his little playlet within Will's play…One more nail in Essex's coffin to charge him...It won't come to hurt you, Johnny…If you keep a clear head and use that fine actor's memory…"

"I'm no informer, Ben…" Hemmings, sternly… "Which sounds rather like your meanin', no offense…"

"No such intended, no offense taken…" Jonson put up a hand … "Just noting a course which should prevent you any trouble…"

"Thankee…" Hemmings frowned…

There'd been rumors about him…Particularly after Marlowe bought it and he seemed to lead a charmed life with the censor…Not to mention that other rumor, after that brawl where some claimed he'd been seen lifeless on the floor, dead as poor Chris…

But then, there were those crazy rumors about Will's Anne and her gaddings about…

"John?..." Will called… "Scene…"

"You're on, Johnny…" Ben smiled…

Fool dolt…Would've been glad to spare him for my next work…Thought he might have a brain unlike good ole Burbage, moronically devoted to the man who made him…

Well, perhaps best to clear away the deadwood and start afresh…

"Dickson, thy prayers be answered…" the first actor in queenly gown pulled away from the window from which he'd been staring out to see the arriving guests… "The female persuasion in fair flower…"

Burbage heading over with no little eagerness as Hemmings began his rehearsal with Shakespeare…

"Now there's what makes the artistic profession we labor in worthwhile, boys…" he grinned, peering out as several more came to the windows…Noting Frances and her attending maid, Anne, unrecognizable in gown, wig, and powder, emerging from their carriage…Into what was a rather sodden strip of muck by said carriage…

"Perhaps I should do the Sir Walter…" Burbage suggested, pulling kingly robe from shoulders…

"Not in that…" Shakespeare called over, sternly…

"Bella?...Guard this with what remains of your miserable life, girl…" DeVere waved Bella over and handed her the packet of the manuscript of "Richard II" Shakespeare had given to him and Essex…

And there it is…The complete copy ready to be recopied in my own hand…And once I master the style, I simply copy from the notes for the actors for the other works and the career of Edward DeVere, England…Europe…Hell, the world's…Greatest playwright…Is underway…

Just have to see the true author meets with a tragic end in the current disaffection and trouble…Leaving the stage clear for me to take his mantle as the greatest playwright of all time to our present day…

And Lord knows, likely long beyond, given his talent…

Pity he won't have a chance to finish a few more…I truly wonder what his genius might have come up with, given a bit more time …Rather wish I could throw him in my private dungeon for a few years and see…

Ah, well…I'd like to keep young Essex twitting about for a few years if I could as well…His silly antics amuse one so…But one can't have everything…

Just Immortality and Immortal Fame…And the delight of a kingdom in chaos…

After all…Much a patriot as I am…And much as England needed stability after Neronic Henry and his feeble son and vengeful religious bigot daughter…It will be a joy to have the old days of paranoia, fear, and mass slaughter back again…

"Lady Frances…" Essex greeted the lovely Frances with a beaming smile…She reciprocating, with curtsy and carefully lowered eyes…

"My Lord Essex…Thank ye for your invitation…"

"I am delighted you accepted, Frances…" Essex held her hand still… "I'd rather thought you might refuse me…Given the lies told about me at Court…"

"My lord…Never…" Frances, remaining bowed…Eye to Anne…

Keep down, you idiot…

"…I am always your friend…As is Her Majesty, I hope you know…"

"Of course…" Essex nodded… "Tis only those rascals trying to come betwixt us with their lies who think we can be separated…" he waved for Frances to rise…Taking her hand firmly…Drawing her along, Anne following…

"But does the Queen still befriend me?..." he asked, cautiously, in low voice…Leading her into the main hall…

"Oh, without doubt, my lord…" Frances, nodding firmly… " She is ever your friend…"

And would see you to Heaven if Heaven would accept the present, to borrow me Will's line…Anne thought, following…

She is good…I'd best be keepin' an eye on her evermore…Girlfriend of me Watcher or no…

"That is wonderful news, Frances…Thank ye…I must see to our other guests…I trust we will speak again, after the performance…" Essex, kissing held hand gently at the end…

"What?..." Frances eyed the slightly frowning Anne as they took seats… "It's how one plays the game at Court…You never burn bridges…Besides, you made me come…"

"I didn't realize the fellow was such a…" Anne, shaking head…

"…But such a pretty one…" Frances grinned… "It almost makes up for it, at least for Her Majesty…"

"He's young enough to be her…"

"And she loves him for his stepfather, Lord Dudley's sake too…" Frances shrugged… "But the Queen can't help it if a young girl's heart still beats within…She really is a virgin, you know…"

"You're putting me on…" Anne stared…

"Ma'am…You are talking about our Queen…" Frances, hissing sternly…

"Fran…" a voice, high-pitched…

Uh-oh…Anne pulled herself down…

I know that voice…

"Lord Southampton…" Frances, light smile…

"The most beautiful of all the Lord's Creation…" young Southampton, long-haired, in extravagrant dress with enormous ruffs and long, billowing sleeves, simpered…Taking her hand…

"Tell me…When, my sweet…"

When you can ever manage to get it up…An impossibility I know…Anne thought…

"Only by permission of her Majesty, my lord…" Frances, pulling hand away…

"That will not be a problem, I assure you, Fran…Dear Fran…" Southampton pulling at her hand…

Never thought I'd be so eager to come to a demon's defense…Anne thought…As Frances gently pulling her hand away again…

"Please, my lord…There are so many about us…" Frances, diplomatically…

"Of course…" Southampton nodded, conspiratorial look… "Till later then, dear one…" he grabbed and squeezed hand…Moving off to join Essex and two others in conversation…

"You alright?..." Anne hissed…

"Of course…" Frances shook head… "He's the least of my worries, believe me…"

"I believe that…Lucky though he didn't recognize me…We've met when I was visitin' Will in London before…"

"Really?...You?..." Frances eyed her…

"My husband's done some work for him, he loves Will's stuff…Sonnets and poetry…But we've only met a couple of times, briefly…"

You may have met him, girl…I seriously doubt he's ever minded you…Frances thought, smiling politely…

Unless he's a taste for big-hipped cowmaids…Which in him seems unlikely…

"Southamption…!" Essex was patting him now… "So good you could make it…"

"I stand ready to die at your side, Robert…" Southampton noted… Fond look…Fonder stroke of hand…

Nope, no chance of that…Frances nodded, watching…

God…Anne stared…

Will did say the fellow's requests in sonnets was a bit unnerving…


	9. Chapter 9

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part IX…

Southampton having mercifully found another interest for his flittering mind, Frances at Anne's urging moved through the great hall of Essex House to give the Slayer a gander at her prime target…Hopefully allowing for a quick confirmation of his nature and a kill based on the evidence…Frances nodding…

Nice to know of a Slayer who pays attention to the niceties of occult justice…A minimal degree of proof being "nice"…

"My Lord Oxford…" Frances bowed to DeVere who'd stepped forward from a group of Essex' men… "A pleasure to find you here…My new maid, Anne…Just to Court, daughter of Lord Sho.." cough…

"My Lord…" Anne, stiffly…Though not too badly, Frances noted with relief…

We may just pull this off…Particularly if she offs Ed quick…

"Frances…Welcome…You grace our little effort…And you, my lady Anne…" polite nod…Careful look…Smile…

"We must pay our respects to your other guests, my lord…Pray, pardon…" Frances smiled…

"Certainly…But do not abandon me for the entire evening, dear Frances…Anne…" DeVere, warm smile, flourish of hand…Anne curtsying with Frances…

Not bad as to looks, if a bit on the weedy, pretty boy side…But definitely Undead, though good at faking the breathing and keeping a bit of red in the cheeks…Anne thought as she followed Frances carefully, a step behind…

Yes…DeVere frowned after them…

Like I believe that one is either a Lady or a lady's maid…It seems dear Fran has betrayed me, no doubt in her own self-interest…

And from the aura, it could only be the Slayer…

Hmmn…Yes, fits the descriptions I've had…Bit on the hefty side but not bad…Comely in her way without doubt…And with a few pounds shed, a veritable Venus…Yes, I see where Shakespeare got his inspiration on the poem…No doubt about it…

Will require considerable retraining though to slough off that clomping farm girl charm, but Edward DeVere is up to the challenge…I shall be Pygmalion to this country Galatea…After all, if Shakespeare can see something in her besides a deft ability with a wooden stick…

Certainly not the first girl I've reshaped into an ornament somewhat worthy of Court…Not to mention, me…

And never hurts to have a Slayer bodyguard/cow… After I deal with the little genius husband…

Or, rather she does…After I make use of my greatest talent…He concentrated… Wives' tales are for fools, he told himself and moved to eye the large looking-glass to the side of the great hall, from which Essex rarely moved far…Yes, there they are…Those beautiful soulful blues, death literally to any mortal woman …He eyed himself, struggling to overcome his remaining slight fear…If I can't see myself, am I gone?...He looked himself over carefully…No dissolution…One merely has to firmly overcome one's childhood superstitions and one sees one's self in the mirror…Voila…No cringing child of the night is DeVere of Oxford…Girl…He eyed Anne dutifully trailing after Frances…

You may have a fine rep but you have met your match…Romancewise as well…He gave a slightly wistful look Anneward…Just reving the old horse…Given we may have to move quickly on matters before the Queen decides to ring down the curtain on us…

Yes…I so fondly remember my last Slayer, worshipfully declaiming her passion for me even as she plunged her stake into her former lover's reeking gore…Did I keep her after she finally succumbed to my years of feeding?…Ah, right, she's still a housemaid/bodyguard on the estate…Had that footman of mine stage her death "in battle" to fool her Council when she was at point of transformation…Yes…A rather sweet girl, in her living days, really…

Somewhat less so, now…Well…

One gets so sentimental about such things when one has a truly poetical sensibility…But no time to dwell on the past glories…The future spreads…He glanced at Anne's rather overconfined bosom…Indeed…Before us…

"Can't you get him alone?..." Anne hissed to Frances as they continued their rounds…Frances rather into her element now as female courtier…Rather intensely interested in the talk in various dark corners regarding Essex' coming bid for power…

"Careful…" Frances hissed back, smiling warmly at a young blade eyeing her, waving Anne to a corner…

"Act like you're fixing my dress a bit…And then stop looking at me like you're my elderly aunt…You're supposed to be a court lady's maid…This sort of thing goes on at Court…"

Anne, frown…

"Well, they'd best not try my patience…" she insisted…Pretending to fuss at Frances' dress lace…

Frances, annoyed…But restraining her response… "It's a game…We all play…"

"And Willie?...How does he mind the game…At his expense…?"

"As if you cared about him…" Frances glared… "But, yes, he tolerates it…It's how he makes his profit or hadn't you noticed while putting his life at risk?…Yes…" her voice low and rather bitter… "You don't mind put him at risk of life and limb yet you want to protect him from the likes of me…Who only lives to make him happy…"

Anne, startled…

"He lives by his contacts at Court, girl…" Frances, grim hiss… "Why do think I let fools like Essex and Southhamption near me, letting the Queen think I'm fond of them and risking her wrath at times like these?...Information is power, Slayer…You ought to be knowing that, given what Willie gives you has saved you many a time…"

"Fine…Me apologies…Now when can I have a crack at our pretty boy vampire?..."

"You're the Slayer, not me…Shhh…" Frances, eyeing an approaching figure…A tall, rather handsome blonde young member of Essex' circle…

"Sir Francis…" she beamed…Moving to meet him and partly blocking Anne… "How nice to see you here…"

"Lady Frances…" the young man bowed…Taking her proffered hand…

Anne repressing frown…Carefully maneuvering to the side…Scanning the room…

No DeVere…Essex busy with a group of twits including Southampton…Uh-oh…She caught sight of Hemmings, entering the room after the wan Bella…

Johnny…

Do not want to be spotted by the troupe just yet…She slid carefully between Sir Francis and Fran, still engaged in light banter…

"Anne?..." Frances eyed her…

"Just wondered if you need anything, milady…" Anne, hastily…

Hmmn…A rather big one…Sir Francis noted…Not without interest…

"No, no…Just enjoy yourself…Mingle a bit…" Frances, pleasantly…

"Our Anne is new to Court…A bit shy…" she noted to Sir Francis…

"Delightful…And from where, Lady Anne?..." Sir Francis, beaming smile…

"Stratford on Avon…" Anne, not thinking…

"Really?..." Sir Francis, curious…

Moron…No one comes from there…I distinctly tole you several northern locales nobody knows well…Frances, glaring…

"Yes…Daughter of Lord Nor…" cough…

"Northumberland?..." Francis blinked… "I'd no idea he'd lands there…"

"Yeah, pleasant seat…A little country place no one knows of…I was raised there, to keep me away from influences and such…" Anne noted…

Hmmn…Johnny off to Essex…Must be about time to start…

Ok, not spotted…For the moment, safe…

"How nice…You know I believe our author of tonight is from there…" Sir Francis noted…

Bet your rather too ridiculously high boots he is…Anne thought, proudly…

And nowhere near…

"Though, I have heard…Tis really our own dear Oxford…"

"The hell he is!..." Anne, loud enough to obtain stares from several…

Jesu Christos, girl…Frances, sighing…

"Anne's quite the playgoer…" she hastily dived in…

"Ah…Shakespeare…" Edward had gone to meet with the actors and author a final time…

Hopefully, literally that in the case of the author, he thought…

"My Lord…" Will bowed…Turning from his reading to Burbage of several tricky new lines…Burbage bowing as well…

"We should all be assembled now…Are we ready?..."

"At your command, my lord…" You stinking bit of rotting Undead…Will thought…

"Burbage…I trust the additions will not be too much for you…" DeVere eyed Burbage who frowned…

I know my business, you foppish little…

"Not at all, my lord…" elegant bow…

And looking forward to seeing you at the execution…Fixed smile…

Though God knows Will…Fun's fun, but I have a dear little wife and family who need me…In a single divinely handsome package…Burbage eyed Shakespeare as DeVere nodded and moved back to the door of the great hall…Several footmen springing to open doors for him…

Time to get to know the Slayer better while she unoccupied…DeVere noted to himself…

Something tells me she already knows the play quite well enough…And will therefore be more interested in me…Assuming she lives anywhere near enough to her reputation to have detected me…

"It'll be fine, Dick…" Will hissed to Burbage… "I take full responsibility if anything goes wrong…"

"Now there's a comfort…It had better be…"

Essex now entered from the great hall…Hemmings following…

"Are your…People…Ready?..." Essex looked at Shakespeare…

"My Lord…" Will bowed… "Gentlemen…" he turned to the troupe…

"Let them not be too…" Essex waved a gloved and perfumed hand… "…dramatical…Yet not lacking in…Drama…" shrewd glance…

"They shan't my Lord…" Will sighed…Jonson now by his side, rolling eyes…

Lord…

"…Nor too…Comical…Yet not without some…Comedy…"

Comedy?...Jesus, has he even read this play?...Jonson thought…

"Certainly, my Lord… Gentlemen…?" Will urged the troupe, sternly eyeing several struggling to repress chuckles… "Johnny…Ready…?" he glanced at Hemmings who stepped forward…

"This earth, this realm…This England…" Hemmings, grinning…

"And yet, to be sure…We do have some romance, I trust…?" Essex eyeing the two actors in ladies' wigs who smiled daintily at him…Simpering a bit…

"Oh, yes, my Lord…If we may but…" Got to find something to use this idiot in after he's met the block…He's just too good to pass on…

"Good…Good…And some of the poetical, eh?...I rather fancy the poetical…Not to write the rubbish myself, you know…I'm a man of action, really…But in a play and all…Rather fancy it…"

"Plenty of poetical, my Lord Essex…" Will nodded, pleasant tone…Kicking quiet Burbage's attempt at "altogether too much…"

"Fine, fine…Well then, let the actors come forth…This play's the thing that will catch the conscience of England!…" Essex noted…

Hmmn…Will eyed him…

Not a bad line…Though "England" doesn't quite work…


	10. Chapter 10

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at http:/www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part X…

"He's back…" Frances hissed, moving close to Anne, pausing as if for another adjustment… "And he seems to be looking for someone…I'm going to guess it's us…"

"I know…And more likely, me…" Anne whispered back…Reaching as if to adjust… "There, milady…" in audible voice…

"Don't underestimate him…" Frances, anxious whisper…" He's killed…And transformed his share of Slayers…Thank you, Anne…You may go enjoy yourself…" raising to audible level at end…

"Ah, Lady Frances and dear Mistress Anne…" DeVere had come over to them…Beaming…

"The play's starting now…" he motioned to the door where the players were now entering from… "May I escort you to a seat, Frances?...And you, Lady Anne?..."

"Thank you, Edward…" Frances, regally…Taking his proffered hand…Anne following…Pasting brief smile to his smiling look and nod…

"You'll enjoy this one…A remarkable work by our author…And quite suited to our current political situation…" he beamed….Other guests taking seats…Essex taking a seat in front with several young courtiers…They reached a group of chairs, well in back…

"Best to keep back, much better for viewing all the activity…And in this play, there's plenty…What is it, Frances, dear?...Nervous?..."

"This has passed the censor?..." Frances stared at the players… "I mean the Queen doesn't appreciate unauthorized 'political' works on the stage or other public venues…"

"Which is why we are doing it in a private home, among our dear friends…" DeVere, smiling… "The Queen can hardly object to that…"

The hell you say…Frances, shaking head…

"Is it new, my Lord Oxford?..." Anne, innocent tone…

"No…But a fine work, with some revisions…Frances?..." he tapped Frances' shoulder as she sat… "If I may help Lady Anne to her seat?..."

"Of course, Edward…" Frances nodded…He moved to stand by a chair next to another, both just behind Frances…

"Madam…" he pulled the chair back for Anne who took seat…Stiffly with equally stiff smile…

"And are you finding the Court to your liking, my lady?..." DeVere whispered, still standing behind her chair…

"Tis' a bit strange…But I'll adapt…" Anne replied…

"I'm sure you will…" he fell silent as the players lined up and took a bow…Hand on her shoulder…

She managing not to shrink from the touch…

Surprisingly warm in fact…Strange…Does he heat himself beforehand somehow when going out in public?...

"My Lords…Ladies…Gentles, all…" Burbage stepped from the row of players…

"By the patronage of His most Gracious Excellence, the Earl of Essex…" nod to Robert… "We present 'The History of King Richard II…', by our most excellent author, Master Shakespeare…"

Anne craning to see William…Then thinking better of it, settling back…

"How proud you must be…" DeVere whispered…She turning back to look at him coolly…He smiling gently back…Shrugging slightly… "Lets not spoil your husband's excellent work…Once they've begun we can go and discuss our affairs…Slayer…"

"Fine, then…My Lord…" she replied, in whisper…Eyeing him…

Indeed he does have lovely eyes…Must have been quite a fine young lad, once…

"Frances.." he leaned over Anne slightly, with a brief apology, to Frances, whispering… "I'd like to borrow Lady Anne for a bit of a stroll…She and I both are sufferers from the closed air in here…"

Frances, glance behind her to him, then Anne, who nodded… "Of course…Don't be long, Anne…I wouldn't have you miss the rest of the play…"

"We'll be back before the best begins…" Edward, quick whisper, smiling…Anne cautiously rising with him…A player catching sight, frowning…

Could show a bit of courtesy…Being the gentry…Not the groundlings…

Who at that usually are better behaved than to leave at the opening scene…

Frances, quick glance back again at the departing Slayer and DeVere, quietly moving to the back of the room and out the door…The ever-waiting Bella wanly following them…

Well, nothing I can do…Just get in her way…She's the expert, after all…she thought, nervously, trying to focus on the players…

Between Edward and Queen Bess, I am sure to be out of someone important's favor by tomorrow…If not dead, again…

"So…" DeVere, pausing in the hallway outside the great hall…Anne facing him a few feet away…Bella quietly moving to take a position by DeVere's left… "Here we are, Slayer…"

"Indeed, my Lord…Are you, in fact, a Lord?..."

"What a question…" he frowned… "Of course, I'm the rightful heir of Oxford…Edward DeVere of the family line…"

"But not quite as young as you appear and give out…" she regarded him…

"True enough, but it would hardly do to let all and sundry know I'm actually a bit older than I trust I look…" smile…

"My Lord should have been a woman…" she smiled, faintly…

"Perhaps…But you, Venus, require no noble title to be what you are…A true goddess…" earnest stare…

"My Lord is too kind…And full of honeyed words…Might I ask how many of them are from my husband so I might keep track for the final billing…"

Smile…Nod…"And a practical woman of business, to boot…Master Shakespeare, your husband, is fortunate indeed…"

"Thank you…And so, if I may ask, my Lord…Are we here to do battle?...And if so, shall we commence?..."

"A terrible thing to do in the house of my best friend, us both guests…" DeVere, smiling… "Come now, surely you and I are above petty displays of our prowess…I hoped we might discuss equitable terms in a friendly manner…"

"Are you offering your surrender, my Lord?..."

"I thought more in terms of a truce, my Lady Slayer…" winning smile… "I know of your reputation and I trust you know of mine…"

"I do…"

"Then can we accept that we are worthy opponents and that it would a tragic loss for either of us to be taken from this world?...Slayer, I'm a peaceable sort…And I realize you are more than a Slayer…No, you are a muse…" beam… "The muse of the greatest writer England and quite probably the world have ever known…A talent too great to be thrown away in a foolish and petty struggle…"

"Are you threatening William…?" hand lightly over dress…Sensing the stake at hand in the folds…Tensing…

"Slayer, if I meant harm to come to your husband…He would be here, facing harm…He is quite safe from me, I assure you…However, dear Anne…" soulful look…

Hmmn…Warm in here…

"You could be the muse of the greatest writer and power behind the throne, England will ever know…"

"My Lord?..."

"Anne…I will speak plainly…I want you for my own…To be my muse…To sit beside me on the seat of true power in this realm…" he took her hand… "Dear Anne…" longing, deep stare…

"You…What?..." she moved hand but did not break the grip…He took her other hand, pulling it out from the dress…

"You warm my lost soul back to life, gentle Slayer…Dear Anne…Be Venus to my Adonis…Forever…Forever, dearest Anne…Take pity on my heart and free me from my eternal loneliness…"

"I…"

"Don't speak, Anne…Just kiss me and let me know your heart is mine…My muse, my love…Oh, Anne…" he pulled her close..Kissing her lips…Pulling back… "My honey-sweet Anne…"

"Right…" she eyed him… "That the best you can do?..." she pulled her hands back, stepping nimbly from him…

Stake out and up before he could recover from his shock…

He blinking….Anne?...

But, to her surprise, he deftly dodged her quick 'end-it-all-before-intermission' thrust…

"Nicely done, Slayer…" he frowned… "But hardly in keeping with a truce…"

"Who said anything about a truce except you?..." she shrugged…

Door opened from the great hall…Both relaxing immediately…Stake repocketed before it could be seen…

"Edward?..." Deveraux frowned at his friend…Apparently wasting valuable time on a lady-in-waiting or even some junior wench… "The play's in swing and our friends are getting a tad nervous at the content…I doubt they need to be let to think you have left us…"

"Coming, Robert…Lady Anne?...We shall meet again…" smile, bow…

"Of course, my Lord…" Curtsy…

Hah…Got it perfect, too…


	11. Chapter 11

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, .com or direct to story at www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part XI…

"'…can all the water in the rough, rude sea…Wash the balm from an anointed king?'" Burbage pronounced, staring out at the audience of gentlefolk before him.

Jesu…Hemings gasped under breath. Several other actors equally stunned.

Not a pronouncement now, but a question?...Christ, if old Eliza ever heard it put that way…

The King himself, questioning his own sanctity?

Will, what hast thou wrought? Nervous glances about…Even as a pleased Essex, in the front row of seats, nods at Burbage. Well put, fellow…Well put.

Shakespeare in the wings to the left, carefully eyeing the audience…

Well, they wanted it, they got it…He glanced at a number of rather anxious faces among the audience.

Seems a bunch got more than they bargained for…

A few quickly attempting to wipe the anxiety from their faces as Essex looked back at his guests.

Stout lads, all…He nodded to Southampton who gave a confident if clueless look back. As several among the guests commenced to quietly looking for exits…

Frances sighing quietly in her seat…My God…

There might just possibly have been a chance for Essex…Exile, banishment from court, financial ruin to be followed by the Queen's eventual restoration of a part of his fortunes…But now? Alls I see is an ax in that poor foolish boy's future, much as it will break Eliza's heart to kill Dudley's step- and likely natural, if rumors be true, son.

However, she looked round nervously for Anne…There are even more immediate concerns. If DeVere has acted true to form and the Slayer has failed, it's time for Frances to give notice (on parchment, to the guard officer, not to be given to the Queen for twenty four hours) and betake herself and her Willie to France, at the very least.

"My Lady…" Anne's voice, from behind. Frances, relieved, turned to eye her.

Hmmn…Nope, not enthralled and ready to break my neck at her new Lord's bidding…Though definitely not really to begin a victory parade. Still…

"Did you and Lord Oxford have a pleasant chat?" she asked.

"Till we were interrupted, my Lady." Anne nodded, looking up to the stage cautiously where Burbage was now continuing his tragic downfall as Richard II.

"But I look forward to meeting my Lord again, soon." She noted, the slightest bit of grimness…Oh, Lord…She tried to pull back as she caught Shakespeare, backed by Jonson, looking out from the improvised left wing…Her way.

God damnit, Annie…His hard stare her way.

…..

Door thrown open from a small room to the hall which DeVere and Anne had had their interrupted rendezvous, with rather surprising force given the pale and slight source…

"Bella?! Bella?" grim call. A bit more forceful and angry and far less languid than usual for the source.

A wan Bella in her maid's outfit rising from her seat in a chair in the large hall… "My Lord?"

"There you are…Come!" DeVere ordered. Bella, head bowed, moved to him. "Don't dawdle, girl!" he insisted. "You've not been bled for a couple of days."

"Yes, Lord." She picked up her pace a bit, reaching him, peering in at the room in which her Lord had vented his wrath, destroying a cabinet and various items in manner quite removed from his usual pose. "Do you require me, Lord?"

"In another's home? Don't be foolish, you silly cow!" he glared. "And as for anything else…" sneer. "I'd say your rather limited charms have longed ceased to be of any interest to me, cousin."

"Yes, Lord. I am sorry to be of so little help to you, Lord." She nodded, bowing.

"You know, it's unbelievable…!" Oxford fumed at the hapless, waiting Bella, stalking up and down the hallway now.

"My…Gracious…Lord…?" she asked, flatly…Watching him.

"That this…This kitchen wench of a Slayer!…This country cow in court dress!…Uneducated, unadorned by any light of proper family or breeding!…Like her damned husband…That she should refuse me!" he raged, pausing in his stride, a bit petulantly. Calming in a moment as she wanly eyed him.

"How may I serve you, Lord? Shall I attempt to kill her, Lord?"

"What, you?" he chuckled with sneering overtone. Eyeing her at the end a moment… "Tis true, coz, you did once take a Slayer or two by surprise in your youth…They do tend not to see you coming when you seem so helpless a victim." Smile. "But not this one, she's not such a fool as those others."

"No, Lord." Bella nodded.

Reflective nod. "Yes, really more of a challenge…As I was told. Indeed…" he smiled, relaxing a bit. "I really should be grateful at last to have such an interesting foe." He regarded Bella.

"Well, dear, you may yet be of use other than as a cow at that…It is possible at the right moment an appeal from you could distract her. Yes, I think there's use for you yet, Bella. I will allow you to live and serve me a bit longer."

"Thank you, gracious Lord." Bow.

"After all, if you never will be my bride, family is family and I much prefer to feed from the right source, my own noble line. And our little letters to and from your grasping, greedy mother do so amuse me at times. It has been a year since the last woeful tale of your evergoing debaucheries, hasn't it?"

"Yes, Lord." Nod.

"Yes, plenty of time for you to have degraded yourself yet again, my dear coz and would be bride, with yet another degenerate…I think our next letter should come from Berlin, yes? A sturdy Teutonic Knight your latest deflowerer, again leaving you penniless and with child, surviving by means we merely imply?"

Grin. "I savor your mother's cover letter to me, enclosing yours, begging yet again for help for the wayward daughter lost to sin she would have foisted on me as Lady Oxford years ago. But you know, I rather think she's jealous of your escapades across the Continent, dear Bella? A certain tone of bitter jealousy always manages to creep into her pleas for additional help for you even as she yet again debases herself, though of course somehow the money never seems to reach you in your pitiful distress. I suspect your mother has rather sticky hands in that regard…"

"Yes, Lord…" Bella, flatly.

"An enjoyable game for now, at least till your younger sister reaches a decently marriageable age and we start all over again with her. But she should be even more amusing, given the letters you've sent her of your pleasures and wanton ways…Between the debauched sister and the viciously greedy mother, dear Lottie is sure to be quite the interesting little character. When time allows we must write again to her as well, telling her of your sordid delights…Defiling her soul even before I do." He took her face in his right hand. "I think once she takes up your role as my sustenance, if you still live, I may send you into one of my private brothels to serve a few friends who are of use to me. Tell me how pleased you would be to be allowed to serve me in such manner…"

"Yes, Lord…I'd…Be…Pleased." Nod.

"Virtuous and dull as ever…" sigh. "Let's hope your sister has more of the DeVere spirit. But, such weak virtue appeals even to a Slayer like Anne. They sense it, bubbling even through what I've created out of you. Yes, I sense underneath the practicality of the milkmaid, our Slayer has a romantic streak. She married the greatest poet in England after all…She might be more cautious but she too suffers from the human weaknesses of pity and compassion." He considered, resuming his more usual languid air.

"Poor Bella, helpless victim of her ancestor/would be groom…You might win her sympathy at that." Nod.

"Thank you, Lord."

"Of course you might need a few good bruises and a scar or two. Our Slayer is probably the type to need a grosser physical appeal to her sensibilities." He smiled, looking her over. "Any way, for the nonce, we have our business here to attend to. Go to my Lord Essex and see that he is satisfied with the performance…Tell him I was taken ill but am recovering and will see him after the play to discuss matters of state. And see if our fair Slayer has joined her husband. And if not, tell Master Shakespeare, Lord Oxford wishes to speak with him a moment."

"Yes, Lord."

Smile… "Tell him the matter concerns his wife…I think that should encourage him to come. And that I will be waiting…In the rear of the great hall, with people about. I imagine he's aware now of my nature from his wife…Or at the very least been cautioned not to find himself alone with me. And, Bella?"

"Lord?"

"See that the Slayer is aware of my summons…It's important 'Lady Anne' comes in his wake, seeking to protect her little fellow from my menace while avoiding a battle in public."

"Yes, Lord." Flat stare, nod.

"And of course we must see out our own little playlet as to poor dear ole Robert. By now his 'friends' must be beginning to desert the sinking ship like rats. Events should be reaching a head there shortly." Smile.

"Yes, Lord."

"Dear Bella…" he patted her. "Forgive me my nature…I suppose as arranged marriages go one to you would have been less intolerable than many. Now, if you would…?"

She nodded, turning…

Ah, he thought, feeling for the packet in his jacket…Thank God I didn't destroy this lovely thing in my wrath. My ticket to Immortality, the real kind…He patted the bundle of papers. Now to have this copied in my own hand, dispose of the little fellow, and establish myself as the greatest playwright in English…Hell, human…History.

Surely there could be no better revenge…


End file.
